


Let the Hunt Begin

by Skalidra



Series: 100 Prompts [10]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: 100 Themes Challenge, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Biting, Courtship, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, Light Masochism, M/M, Roughhousing, Scratching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6785620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian is the son of Talia al Ghul, the Queen of the Seas. As a challenge to prove himself, he's placed on a pirate ship to climb the ranks, without anyone but the captain knowing who he is. What better way to prove his skill than to catch one of the rare, deadly, race of merpeople? He'd have settled for a mermaid, but a merman is even better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Well, I almost forgot I was posting something today, but luckily I remembered before I ran off for work. XD This is what happens when I don't set little reminders for myself or something. SO, this is another of the 100 prompts; number 36, 'Precious Treasure.' With JayDami, because I needed more of it, and pirates and merpeople because I couldn't help myself. Hope you enjoy!

The first glimpse of pale skin freezes Damian’s breath in his throat, and he immediately shifts behind a tree to hide his own form. Then he edges his head around the other side of the tree, to get a look at what he thinks he’s seen. And he _has_.

There’s a man in the rock-lined pool, arms crossed on the edge and a head of black hair pillowed on them, the pale skin of his back glimmering faintly in the sun shining down through the intermittent shade of the trees. He can see the corded muscle in the man’s arms, the defined lines of more where his shoulder blades are standing slightly out beneath his skin from the angle of his arms. He lets his gaze slide down those lines to the man’s waist, where skin transitions to scales that shine a dark, almost-black red.

He has to swallow as he follows those scales along the length of a long, powerful, _deadly_ looking tail. It’s resting in the water right now, half-hidden except for the way it twitches every couple of seconds, disturbing the water and hinting at the kind of strength it holds.

This is actually better than he was hoping for.

There were stories of a mermaid somewhere on the island, hiding in the shoals maybe, and he _desperately_ needs to prove his skill to the ship he’s stationed on. This has been a test, to see if he can prove himself to a crew and if he’s willing to grind his ways up the ranks without the name of his family behind him. So far, he’s not doing as well as he’d like. He can do the jobs, but he’s young and he knows that things are being made purposefully difficult for him _because_ of who he is.

Though only the captain of the ship knows that information, so theoretically if he just _killed_ the captain — quietly, of course — things would become much easier.

Finding a mermaid was a long shot, but they’re anchoring at the island for a week, and everyone’s been given leave to do whatever they wish for those days, as long as they’re back before the ship sails again. Anyone who delays the ship’s launch will get as many lashes as the hours they’ve delayed, with one of the heaviest whips on board.

He’s seen the first mate’s skill with that whip; he has no interest in being under it.

What he was _not_ expecting was a merman instead of a maid. The males, from what he’s heard, are both exceptionally more rare, and generally much more dangerous. Bigger, stronger, and aggressively _vicious_ in a way that the women aren’t. The women will lure first, get a human entranced and close before striking and tearing them to shreds. The men don’t bother; they _chase_.

If he brings a merman back, that _has_ to earn him respect.

It takes all of his skill to fight the pounding of his heart so he can circle the clearing without making any noise that might rouse the merman from his sleep. Every step is terrifying in its own right, each touch of his foot to the ground a chance for this to turn to blood and probably his own death. He manages to circle all the way around so he’s at the merman’s back, and then creep into the clearing until he’s standing just above the creature, careful that his shadow doesn’t block the light shining down on that faintly glimmering skin. The occasional lines of thick scars — most of which look like claw or bite marks — prove that however deeply this creature is sleeping, it’s clearly survived many fights and injuries to make it this far.

He draws his knife, fits it between his teeth, and then gets a hold of the loop of rope he’s carrying at his waist with both hands. He takes in a deep, silent, breath, and drops all of his weight down through one knee, which he plants right in the center of the merman’s back.

The merman jerks, gasping out a sound of breathless pain as he grabs at those wrists. He manages to get a loop of rope around one of them before the merman starts to struggle, and it takes all his focus to shove the creature back down and keep him held there. He can hear the splashes of that tail, the heavy _thump_ of it against what must be the bottom of the pool, and a cold chill runs down his spine at the thought of what facing something like this in the water would be like. The _damage_ that tail could do.

One hand reaches back, _rakes_ furrows down his lower left arm to where he has his hand wrapped in the merman’s hair to pin his head down. He yelps around the knife in his teeth but refuses to release his grip, jerking the merman’s head back and then slamming it against the rock in retaliation. That stuns the creature, and he quickly wraps the rope around both those wrists and jerks them together, fingers moving deftly to tie one of the more secure knots he knows. And then a second, just in case.

He takes half a second to breathe, grabbing the knife from between his teeth and then shifting his weight off of the merman. It takes basically all the strength he has to grip the creature and drag him a few more feet out of the pool, flipping him onto his back. He pushes one knee down across the merman’s shoulder, a physical reminder, as he flicks the knife down underneath that human throat and presses it up. He curls his other hand into the black hair — there’s a streak of white in it, hanging over the left side of his forehead — and jerks the merman’s head back, forcing the creature to look at him.

Blue-green eyes, looking just the shade of the ocean on its calmer days, glare up at him, white teeth bared as the creature hisses through them, clearly furious. There’s blood slipping from a swelling cut above its right eyebrow, probably from that impact with the rock. He glares right back, keeping his grip tight as he takes a look at the cuts on his arm. He’s bleeding, and fairly badly by the look of it, but the gashes look fairly shallow. It shouldn’t be that hard to patch.

The merman’s hands are flexing, testing the rope around them, and he jerks on the black hair in warning. “Stop that,” he snaps. The merman doesn’t even flinch, just shows a little more teeth and tugs harder at the restraints, tail starting to twist inside the pool. He presses his knee down harder, _yanks_ at the hair and snarls, “ _Cease_ , or I will open your throat right here, beast.”

Water hits him in the side of the head, drenching his upper half in a moment and making him sputter and flinch. He looks back at the pool, and a second splash hits him _right_ in the face. He gets his eyes back open in time to see the merman’s tail dip back below the water, and to turn around so the third splash hits his back instead.

“Stop!” he demands, with a sharp glare.

The merman is _grinning_ , vicious and angry but then those teeth part and the creature starts to laugh. Fearless, apparently unconcerned by the knife at his throat, even when he presses it a little bit harder down and it just barely splits skin.

“I know you can understand me, beast. _Stop_ , or I will kill you here and take only your tail back to show to my captain. Do not _test_ me.”

He thinks he makes it sound believable, but then the creature is suddenly lashing out, bound hands grabbing his wounded arm and squeezing down. He gasps at the sharp pain, and the creature snarls and grips even tighter, with an almost inhuman level of strength.

“Don’t test _me_ , pirate,” the merman growls, in a low voice he’d sooner relate to large, wild beasts with mouths full of teeth and fangs. Not this beautiful but ultimately deadly creature.

“ _Release_ me, or—”

“Don’t make threats you can’t keep.” The merman gives him a vicious grin, nails digging into the wounds on his arm in a way that makes his breath catch. “You don’t know what you’re messing with, kid. I could shred your arm to bone in a _second_ ; you think you can hold me with one tiny piece of sharp metal? Walk away now and I’ll let you live with nothing more than some fresh _scars_.”

He swallows, unnerved by the promise of violence in the merman’s eyes. Then he remembers the reason for hunting this creature down, remembers his name and his lineage, and steel reinforces his momentarily forgotten will. He bares his teeth and gives the lowest, darkest snarl he can manage, pressing his knee against the merman’s shoulder with enough pressure that it has to be painful.

“You will _listen_ to me, creature. I am _Damian al Ghul_ , descended from the Queen of the Seas and the Law’s Shadow, and you will _release_ me or I will put this blade through your throat. I do not _care_ how much more you are worth alive; you will submit or you will _die_.”

The merman’s mouth curls into a snarl. “You think you scare me, _Damian?_ ”

He digs the point of the knife into the merman’s throat, drawing a bead of blood that slides off to the side. “ _Choose_ ,” he demands, steeling himself to the idea of killing this creature here and now. Giving up the idea of taking it back to the ship and claiming the respect he’s deserved.

The merman considers him for a moment, eyes narrowed and teeth still bared, and then scoffs and lets go of his arm. “Whatever.”

He tries not to wince at the pain in his arm, and tries to hold the blade steady. “Get out of the pool.”

“Fuck you,” the merman says, instantly and clearly with no intention of helping. He presses the blade a little harder to the merman’s throat, draws another droplet of blood, but only gets a roll of those blue eyes. “Oh, knock it off, brat. Maybe you’ll kill me for the sake of your own survival, or health, but you’re sure as fuck not going to for _this_.”

“I could hurt you,” he threatens, tugging at the creature’s hair.

That gets him a small snarl, and a sharp little snap of teeth against the air. “You want to see how fast I can break your arm?”

Unfortunately, he’s pretty sure that’s not a bluff. So he lets go of the creature’s hair and grabs an arm instead, before carefully removing the knife from his throat. He gets an angry sounding hiss when he drags the merman up onto the land, and he ends up panting because dragging that much uncooperative weight is not an easy thing. Then he steps back, standing between the merman and the pool but safely out of range of a hit from that tail, and examines his arm a little more closely.

It hurts, but it’s not too serious as far as he can tell, even with the blood trickling down his arm and hand. He bites back a sigh, leaning down to cut and tear off a strip from the bottom of his pants. He backtracks, first, to dip his arm into the pool to try and wash it clean, making sure to keep a careful eye on the merman.

It makes him a little nervous when the merman grins, rolling to his back and raising his bound hands. Then a lot more when the merman starts sucking the blood — _his_ blood — off of his fingers, closing blue eyes like he’s enjoying some kind of treat.

“What are you doing?” he asks, as he wraps his arm in the borrowed cloth, wincing at the pressure of it.

The merman looks over at him, slowly sucks another finger clean of blood. “Tasting you,” he says afterwards, with a wicked smirk. “Any ocean, any fight; spill a _drop_ in the water and I can track you, pirate. You should have done your research before you came after me.”

He stares for a couple seconds, trying to process that, before shaking it off. “It does not matter. You will not get the chance to hunt me, beast.”

“Jason.”

He stiffens, then narrows his eyes as he ties off the bandage. “What?”

The merman lowers his hands, resting them on his chest and flipping the tip of his tail — a large, nearly blood-red fin — into the air. “My name is _Jason_. If you’re going to drag me all the way across the island to sell off to your captain, you should know my name.”

“How could you—?”

The merman, Jason, snorts. “Oh, come on. I know where your ship is, and you’re sure as hell not the captain. Unless you’re a moron, you know that there’s no way you could keep me if you’re _not_ the captain. So you’re dragging me back to sell off. The only question is _why_.” Jason looks over at him, eyes narrowed. “Hunting me alone would have been one thing, but trying to _catch_ me alone? How _desperate_ are you, pirate? What have you done?”

“Nothing!” he snaps. “Bringing you back to the ship will gain me the respect I require to ascend the ranks. You are overestimating your own deadliness, _Jason_.”

Jason’s tail flips again, higher this time and hitting the ground with a _thud_ he can almost feel from where he’s standing. If Jason had managed to drag him into the water, if he hadn’t ambushed the merman, that tail… One solid hit from that limb could have broken half his ribs, at the least.

Jason rolls to his stomach, pressing up on bound hands with a sneer. “No, I’m not.”

It’s flat truth in the words, and he believes them.

“It does not matter,” he repeats. “I will present you to my captain, I will gain the respect I deserve, and I will be free of this wretched test of skill. You _will_ not stop me from achieving that.”

Jason snorts, turning his head back as he idly messes with the rope binding his hands. “Alright, _Damian_. So how are you planning to drag me across an island? Cause gotta say, if you’re literally planning on dragging me by this rope, we’re going to have a problem.”

His gaze travels along the length of that tail, which flicks under his look, then up to the broad shoulders and muscle of Jason’s back, and finally to bound hands and an amused grin.

He has to bite his tongue not to curse.

* * *

It takes him hours to rig up something that will actually carry Jason’s weight without snapping, and that’s after he drags the merman far enough away from the pool that he can work without worrying about any successful escape attempts.

Not that he apparently needed to worry, because Jason seems content to lie in the sun and watch him, making sarcastic comments that he tries not to listen or respond to. Jason’s also entirely unhelpful in actually trying out the different litters, and those comments just _continue_ as he finally makes one that works and starts out over the island.

His arm throbs, he’s got a headache pounding at his temples, and the effort of lifting and pulling Jason along, even with the help of the litter, is extremely taxing. It isn’t long before he’s sore, breathing hard, clenching the rough handles of the litter in his hands as he grinds his teeth. It stays that way right up until the sun’s set, and the last bits of light are fading away to make way for the moon.

There’s still some light, but not enough to keep going on.

So he gets Jason out of the litter, uses the extra bits of the rope to tie his hands up against one tree, and goes to lie by a tree about twenty feet away. It’s not all that comfortable, but he’s slept on worse and in this case, it’s fairly safe. Even if he is sore and frustrated, it’s not enough to make a stupid mistake.

With that tail Jason is large and unwieldy outside of water, which means that if he does get loose, he’s going to make more than enough noise to give warning. He’ll be able to wake up and either get out of the way, or hunt Jason back down and drag him back.

When Jason questions, he says as much, and gets another of those snorts in answer.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep as quickly as he does, but the exhaustion gets to him. It’s warm out, there’s only the faint sounds of the island as background noise, and before even a few minutes he’s falling right into blackness and crashing. Hard.

It shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it is to wake up with hands curling around his throat and slamming him onto his back.

He chokes, stares up at shadowed blue-green eyes and the flash of white teeth as Jason’s grip tightens on his throat. There are _legs_ to either side of his waist, not a tail, and Jason’s hands are still bound but he’s definitely not tied to that tree anymore. That realization makes him struggle, reaching for his knife as Jason slams him into the ground again and snarls.

“Give me _one_ reason I shouldn’t kill you right now,” the merman hisses.

He gets his knife up, the fingers of his other hand grabbing at Jason’s waist as he presses the point of the metal to right between two of the merman’s ribs. “You die with me,” he gasps, digging his nails into Jason’s skin as hard as he can manage. “I can get this in you before you strangle me.”

Jason’s fingers tighten a fraction more, teeth baring as he snarls, “I don’t have to strangle you; all I need to do is crush your throat. It’ll take a _second_.”

He sucks in another breath, all too easily able to imagine the fingers on his throat just clenching down until bone gives and his windpipe collapses in on itself. He presses the blade down harder, knows he’s split skin when Jason hisses through his teeth and twists away from it. He’s not sure he can speak against the fingers on his throat, so he just bares his teeth and follows Jason with the blade, making sure it’s aimed low and between ribs where it will do the most damage. If he can get it in once, that’s painful. Twice, and he might stand an actual chance of killing the merman, if he can hit something important.

The hands on his throat let go with one final twist of fingers, and Jason irritably knocks the arm with the knife away from him with his bound hands, sitting back onto his waist with a huff. He drags in a breath, struggling not to cough it out again and forcing himself to brace his injured arm on the ground to hold himself partially up, the other hand clutching the knife in case Jason comes after him again.

Jason is studying him, hands lowered and resting on his stomach, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt and then releasing it repeatedly. He catches his breath after a bit of struggle, wincing at the ache in his throat when he swallows, trying to forget about the way his arm is protesting the effort of holding him up.

He glances down to pale legs, and finds himself scowling. “Legs?” he almost spits. “You have _legs_ , and you made me carry you across half the _island?_ ”

Jason’s mouth curls into a grin that’s a little less vicious than the rest of the ones that have been aimed at him. “Should have done your research.” He glares, grinding his teeth together, and Jason laughs. “Seriously, how the _hell_ did you think I got to that pool in the first place? Did you think I crawled the whole way?”

He only grinds his teeth harder, not willing to admit that he hadn’t actually thought about it.

The merman shoves down on his stomach to push up, swinging off of him to sit over to the side. “Uh-huh.”

He sits up, still holding the knife but it feels like scant protection now. Even with bound hands, Jason is nothing to be trifled with. That’s clear enough.

“Why did you not kill me?” he asks, his voice coming out hoarse from the attack. Jason raises an eyebrow, and he gathers his legs in to be prepared to move, just in case. “You had me; why threaten instead of simply killing me while I slept?”

Jason tilts his head, studying him for a couple long moments. “Maybe I just want to know more about the crazy man who came after me on his own. Maybe you fascinate me.” Unimpressed, he glares. Jason smirks. “No? Not going for that? Alright.” Jason’s legs stretch out, as if in deliberate contrast to his defensiveness, and the smirk widens a little bit. “Maybe there are fights I’m not interested in picking.”

“You could have left instead then,” he presses. “Why are you still here, beast?”

Jason shifts, head lowering, and his breath catches when in an instant the merman goes from playful to predatory. The smirk turns to a flash of teeth, blue eyes narrowing, hands curling against the ground as if in preparation to leap forward. He grips the knife tighter, and Jason releases a low, dangerous growl, the sound hitting some long forgotten instinct buried in the depths of him that insists he should _run_. The chill down his spine, the way his heart picks up, the sharp edge to his breathing, all things he thought he’d overcome long ago.

Shoulders curl in a bit, and his gaze focuses down on those teeth, on the muscle in Jason’s arms as the merman slides into motion. He flinches as those legs gather underneath the creature, Jason’s whole body edging forward like he’s just _barely_ restrained, like in a moment those muscles will release and those teeth will close on his throat.

“ _Run_ ,” comes the hiss. “Run as far and as fast as you can, human.” His hands are shaking, the hilt of the knife digging into his hand and it’s so _pitiful_ of a defense against a beast like this. “You have no _idea_ the hell that you’ve invited.”

Jason slides forward, holding his gaze, teeth parting in a low, mocking laugh. He stays frozen.

“Descendant of great names? _I am the Red Death_. I’ve hunted more of your kind than you’ve ever met and torn them to bloody shreds in the water, little human. I’ve sunk more ships than the years you’ve lived, and left the sailors screaming in the sea for my kin to feast on. I am a _nightmare_.” The merman lunges forward. “ _RUN!_ ”

He lashes out, panic and anger solidifying into the desperate adrenaline to _fight_.

The tip of the knife catches Jason’s cheek as it slashes past, opening a thin line that doesn’t do nearly enough to stop the weight of the merman from crashing into him. He hits the ground on his back, bound hands catching his wrist and slamming it into the dirt above his head once, twice, until his fingers release the knife. He gasps, twisting underneath the heavier bulk and slamming a punch into the merman’s side. Jason hisses, bows in a little from the blow, and then backhands him with the force of both his bound hands, snapping his head to the side.

It stuns him for a moment, and when he looks back up Jason is pulling against the rope, muscle straining, and it _snaps_. Horror washes over him, and he tries to scramble away, to put a little distance between them, but Jason shakes off the shreds of the rope and jerks forward to follow him. Hands slam his shoulders into the dirt, and Jason’s mouth is parting, he’s hissing, and gone are the white, human teeth. In their place is a mass of jagged, too-long, needle-sharp teeth that look like their only possible purpose is to rip flesh into tattered ribbons.

A cry bursts out of his throat, something instinctual and full of desperate rage, and he surges upwards against the half a pin. He gets about a half a foot up before Jason is slamming him back down with unnatural strength, and then those hands are wrapping around his lower arms and trapping them against the ground as the merman leans in. For a moment all he can see is _teeth_ , and he writhes against the pin, snarling back because he has nothing else. The hand holding down his injured arm lets go, snaps up and grabs ahold of the side of his head instead, twisting it to one side to bare his throat and hold him still.

He shouts again, watching those teeth come down towards his neck, watching his own _death_.

And then blunt human teeth are closing on his throat, biting down hard enough to leave a clear imprint. He’s frozen, still anticipating the razor slice of that mouth of teeth, up until Jason lets his neck go and leans back. His head is released, his momentarily free arm pressed down again. He shudders, carefully turning his head to look up, to meet Jason’s narrowed eyes.

The merman’s fingers tighten over his injured arm, and he winces and jerks against the hold, not that it gets him anywhere.

“Most humans,” Jason says, almost in a whisper, “would have run from me, or frozen and just waited for me to eat them.” The merman leans down, their faces only inches apart. “Maybe I haven’t left because I’m not done playing with you yet, little human.”

He manages to calm the fight-or-flight instinct rampaging through his veins enough that he can spit, “Am I being played with?”

Jason’s gaze lowers, lingering somewhere near the hollow of his throat. “Are you dead?”

He jerks a little bit, and then Jason is laughing, low and dangerous. His arms are pressed down a bit harder, and then Jason leans down and nips at his throat, still with only the human teeth. He can’t contain his flinch, or the way his hands curl into fists as adrenaline spikes again.

“If you didn’t interest me, I would have ripped your throat open the moment you tried to capture me,” Jason hisses into his ear. “You’re _mine_ now, little human. _My_ prey. _Run_ ; give me a chase I’ll remember.”

He twists his head, coming face to face with the merman and baring his teeth. “I will not run from you,” he snarls. “I am not some prey to be tracked and skinned, and I belong to _no one_. Kill me if that is your intention, but I will not provide you _entertainment_.”

For a moment that almost stops his heart, Jason looks _hungry_. He tenses up, steels himself to the idea of those needle teeth biting into his throat, and then Jason’s mouth is sliding into a slow grin.

“Think you’ve got a choice, little human?”

A knee plants in his gut, driving the air out of him, and then his injured arm is being dragged up. Jason rips the bandage off his arm, and then digs his fingers into the wounds hard enough he gasps in pain and they start to bleed again. He struggles, trying to pull away, and Jason is pulling his arm across his chest, leaning up. He stills in something like horror when the merman licks a stripe up his arm, cleaning the blood that’s started to trickle down towards his elbow. Then another, tongue swiping over one of the ragged lines clawed into his skin. He cringes.

Jason hums in a clearly satisfied tone, shoves his arm down and leans close enough that their faces are barely a fraction of an inch apart. “I know your taste, Damian. You’re marked, and no matter where you go I can track you down. Across the seas and beyond.”

He shivers, but forces his mouth to curl, baring his teeth and meeting Jason’s gaze head on. “I will not be your _prey_.”

Jason closes that last bit of distance. He’s not naive enough to call it a kiss, not when it’s clearly something far more animalistic and primal. If he was going to call it anything, it would be a claim. It’s only once Jason’s split his bottom lip with sharp teeth that it ends, and their mouths part again. He watches the merman’s tongue slide out, swiping blood off those teeth.

“Too late,” Jason whispers, and then shoves him down and smoothly gets to feet he shouldn’t even have. “See you in the oceans, little human. Next time, we’ll meet on my territory.”

Jason vanishes into the darkness of the night with more ease than should be possible, and he pushes himself up and carefully takes a look at his arm. It’s bleeding again, still not all that bad but it _hurts_ , and he’s going to have to rebind it and try to find somewhere to wash it clean.

How the hell is he going to explain any of these injuries to his captain?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! So, a little bit from Jason's PoV this time around; hope you enjoy it!

He’d been planning to kill the child. The moment pressure had slammed into his back, and rope had wrapped around his wrist, he’d been planning to turn and _gut_ whoever was daring to disturb him. It was stupid to get caught out, to sleep anywhere so unsecure when he knew that there was a ship anchored on the other side of the island, and for that first moment he thinks he’s going to die.

Until the touch of the rope, and then _fury_ became his best friend because _god_ what is humanity’s obsession with catching and parading his people like creatures? The humans should know better than to mess with beings so much deadlier than them.

Then the boy gets him on his back, wrists bound and a knife to his throat, and he _recognizes_ the face looking down at him. Not specifically, but he knows the style of that short black hair, the copper of his skin, the shape of the jade eyes and the steel _command_ about him. He recognizes the way the boy speaks, the tightness to a jaw just a little too on the edge of feminine to be the same as the one he knows.

The boy’s names for them are feared titles, but he’d recognize the son of Talia al Ghul and Bruce Wayne anywhere. The former he’s met, the latter he’s seen glaring down into the oceans or across at other ships enough to have memorized his face.

So he lets the boy ‘threaten’ him into feigned submission, lets himself get dragged halfway across the island with barely any struggle, the taste of _Damian’s_ blood settling into the back of his throat. He’s not real interested in picking a fight with two of the most dangerous humans he knows of by killing their son, and honestly…

Damian _interests_ him. There’s a young sort of steel to him, a hard front hiding inexperience and all other vulnerability, and the little moments that leaks through he finds himself enjoying. He baits and needles, and when the boy’s asleep he strikes. The _fury_ in the boy is fascinating, his unwillingness to back down until he was literally faced with death itself in the form of his true self’s mouthful of teeth.

Afterwards, when he’s back in the ocean and swimming around the island to find that anchored ship, he knows he shouldn’t have done what he did. He shouldn’t have left that bite mark on Damian’s throat, shouldn’t have claimed the boy with the bloody kiss. He _knows_ he shouldn’t have.

Claiming humans has never worked well for him in the past; all of them have either turned on him or been killed in one way or another. It’s hurt more than he’d like to admit; most of the stories humans tell about him have been while he was trying to work out the _rage_ of having his claimed murdered or tortured to get to him. Or, worse, having them sell him out to ships and soldiers and having to drag them underneath the waves himself.

He told himself he wasn’t going to go down this path again. He _promised_ , for the sake of his own sanity, he wasn’t going to court or claim another human.

There’s still time. The taste of blood lingering at the back of his throat will ease, after a while. It’s not a true claim yet; he can still leave the boy alone and let this whole stupid idea end here. He doesn’t have to risk the rejection, or the pain, or being hunted down by two pissed off parents who don’t want their son involved with a sub-human beast.

His lip curls up into a snarl at the thought, hands clenching to fists as he beats his fin harder against the water to speed up. Slipping deeper is automatic, so his speed doesn’t show on the surface of the ocean. He ends up almost brushing the sand at the bottom, since the waters around the island are shallower and clear enough that if he’s unlucky, someone looking down could see him through it. That’s probably why Damian knew to find him here; he’s been spotted here before and hasn’t always had the heart or energy to track down the sailor that saw him before rumors could spread.

He spots the ship, slows down and swings out farther into the ocean to come up behind it. It’s anchored out on deeper waters, and he keeps a careful eye up at the men crawling around on it as he approaches, circling down beneath its shadow. He follows the line of the anchor’s chain up to the hull, pressing his hands to the wood and exploring how it feels beneath his fingers. Solid, decent construction, but nothing special. Not like other ships he’s explored, and sometimes sunk.

It’s a smaller ship, maybe a crew of thirty, built to be fast and lightweight. The kind of pirate ship meant to outmaneuver anything too big for it to handle, and run circles around anything it can. Not surprising, that’s a favored tactic for pirates.

Damian had mentioned something about a test of skill; he’d guess that the boy’s been set to learn and prove himself on a pirate ship under the distant command of his mother. Or at least one where she can be sure that Damian isn’t going to be murdered and thrown overboard in the middle of the night. Damian can’t exactly prove himself if he’s still right under the wing of the Queen of the Seas; it would never work. This is something like the human equivalent of being left to survive alone after the first year under a dam and sire’s shadow, next to whatever brothers and sisters hadn’t already eaten each other.

Carefully, of course. Anyone outright murderous towards their siblings was thrown out to die earlier than that, but an ‘accidental’ crippling? A quick snap of teeth behind their parents’ back? That was where the real culling happened.

He rests his back against the wood of the ship’s hull, closing his eyes and finding the line of his oldest scar by familiar touch. It’s an irregularity in the scales just below his right side, three scales are crooked and out of place over the once-torn skin underneath, when they were ripped out. A failed attempt to cripple him that he’d repaid by ripping out the throat of the sibling that had dared to try.

Among his siblings he’d been small, clever but not the strongest or the fastest. But once he’d been out on his own, in the waves, then he really grew. Now, it’s extremely rare that he meets any other merman as big or as skilled as he is. He’s lived a long time; long enough that he’s starting to really feel the pull to find a mate and a home territory.

It wouldn’t be hard. He’s known for dozens of years that if he ever showed interest, most others of his kind would happily allow him to claim them and take them as his own. He’s strong, skilled, respected, and intelligent. All the kind of traits that his kind appreciates, and while some of their mating is done out of love, most of it is pragmatic. He has traits that a mate would like to see in their children, and that’s all that matters.

If serious courting doesn’t go well, unfinished claims can always be left to die out, and being the sire or dam of a brood doesn’t mean he has to stick around past when they’ve grown enough to be sent out on their own.

The only issue is he’s never found one of his own kind that he actually wanted, with one _big_ exception. That big exception is the cause of about half of his scars, when their dance turned into a too-serious fight for territory which ended with both of them partially broken and bleeding, and any chances of anything more serious ended for good.

Instead, it’s always been humans that fascinated him, that _interested_ him. From the first one, that smiled and looked at him in awe, that gave him his first taste of all the pleasure possible between their races before _also_ giving him his first taste of betrayal, and what a net and a blade felt like. To the last, that was stranded and dying on an island too small to survive on and who he carried to a nearby bigger one, nursed back to health, and fell in love with, before a ship stopped. The one he had to lie in the shallows and listen to _scream_ and eventually die as the soldiers asked where he was, what his weaknesses were, and how to catch him.

He spent almost a month hunting that ship, picking off the soldiers one by one and making sure that each one suffered as much as he could manage. Until it fell dead in the water without enough people to run it, and he climbed on board in the middle of each night to drag one of them down into the depths with him. Somewhere, there might still be that empty hollow of a ship floating in the waves.

After that last time he really thought he’d learned his lesson about getting interested in humans, but, well, here he is again. Thinking about jade eyes, black hair, and copper skin. About the taste of blood on his tongue and the feeling of a pulse beating frantically against his fingers even as a blade pressed to his skin in turn.

It’s too late now. He’s just going to have to chase Damian, as his instinct and the _drive_ in his chest demands, until either the half of a claim wears off or he decides, against _all_ better logic, to try for something more. Not that it’s likely that Damian would understand his courtship, if it were even really possible between their races.

He’s seen before that the kinds of play-fights and ingrained rituals that he knows don’t really work with humans. They don’t understand the desire to test a potential mate’s skill, to make sure that a chosen mate is strong and powerful enough to keep up, to be a true partner. The humans he’s gotten involved with have never understood his courtship quirks, and he’s always held it back and let them engage in it in their own ways. The small kisses with none of the blood and violence he expects, the trace of fingers along his skin and scales, and the way that they like to sleep curled up beside him, in the wrap of his arms and mostly only at night.

He’s come to understand that it means trust. Being trusted with vulnerability, and opening himself to the same, is what counts as human courtship. It doesn’t fully satisfy the desire in his bones, he can never bring himself to consider them true _partners_ , but there’s a joy to it all the same.

He’s also come to understand that he enjoys it. The trust, and the _intimacy_ behind allowing such things. To let someone sit at his back and trace his scars, to lie with them in the sand and know that he’s safe, is something that he never even imagined having before it was introduced to him.

Love, until he knew it, was always a foreign concept.

* * *

He tracks the ship Damian’s on for weeks, learning its crew and its routine, and where Damian fits in all of it. All from a distance, of course, though occasionally he lets himself climb the side of the ship and stay there, hidden beneath curves of wood from anyone not specifically looking, and just watch.

He sees how Damian bridles under the rough hand of the captain, especially as he heals. He sees the way the crew more or less accepts him as one of their own, not knowing or not caring that there’s a kind of royalty in their midst. He sees how Damian keeps carefully aware of his surroundings, and is impressed by the amount of times he has to duck down or drop off the ship not to get seen by those keen, narrowed eyes. He’s almost positive that Damian sees him at least once or twice anyway, but he never sees a reaction so he ignores it.

It stays at that strange sort of stalemate for a while, until one night there’s a second ship. His first clue that it’s up to no good is how it slides across the ocean, all lights off and air an utter hush around it apart from the lapping of the wood at its hull. It feels like a familiar style of attack, and he heads for it and takes a look on board the thing. White uniforms and bared steel meet his eyes, and he flashes his teeth in a snarl and shoves away, back to the ship with _his_ Damian.

He settles for ramming _his_ ship with a little bit of force, enough to make a _loud_ sound and wake everyone up to get them looking around. There is no way in hell he’s letting what might be his claimed be captured or killed by some navy ship on an _ambush_.

More of the pirates gather on the deck, one of their lookouts spots the other ship, and _chaos_ breaks out. Sails go up, men rush for weapons, and — satisfied that his ship is sufficiently warned — he spins around and heads back towards the attackers. They’re speeding up, lights flickering on as they realize the element of surprise is gone and they try to get close enough, fast enough, that whatever advantage they can manage is still there.

At a guess he’d say that they outnumber his pirates with men, but the navy ship isn’t much bigger. If the roles had been reversed, it might have been something that his pirates would have gone after to begin with. Merchant ships make richer targets, but navy ones are good for weaponry and basic supplies.

He circles the ship once, scans for any weaknesses in the hull, or anything else he could use to damage it, but doesn’t find anything. Well, that just means he scares them first.

He backs off, listens to the sharp crack of cannons firing and spares just a moment of worry for his claimed, then bares his teeth and speeds towards the ship. He hits it high, just below the water line as he ends his charge with a practiced twist and _slams_ his tail against the wood. The ship isn’t small enough to actually rock, but the reverberation of the noise gets him a round of surprised cries from the deck above.

He dives farther down into the water to avoid the splinters of wood slicing through the water after each cannonball, marking the locations that the navy ship gets damaged; all too high for him to do anything with without giving up his advantage in the water.

A splash catches his attention, a heavier one that implies real weight, and he circles to find the railing of the pirate ship blown apart in one section, and a pirate in the water. He pauses for a moment, considers, and then approaches. Wide, dark eyes catch sight of him, and the pirate frantically flails backwards. Effortlessly, he catches up with the minimal movement and grabs one of the human’s arms, motioning calm with his other hand. It doesn’t get through, and he rolls his eyes and just pulls the human towards the surface, pushing him just up above the water.

He listens to the gasping breath, and then orders, “Hold it!” over the sound of the cannons and the shouts from above.

He waits just long enough to make sure that the pirate obeys, and then pulls him down beneath the waves. He wraps his arm around the pirate’s chest, clasping his hand over the human’s mouth and nose to stop him from breathing the water in as he dives down. He gets a little bit of struggling, but ignores it as he swims down underneath his pirate’s ship, back almost grazing the hull as he takes the shortest route to the other side, out of care for the fragile thing in his arms. The gasp of breath when he comes up on the other side tells him that was a good idea.

He pushes the pirate towards the hull of the ship, up far enough that he can get a grip on the ridges of wood to climb up, and then leaves him. He doesn’t wait for whatever reaction he’s going to get, just spirals back around and down to the other side of the ship. The two ships are closer now, lines starting to get dropped between them for boarding. There’s more wood in the water, bigger chunks, and the shouting from above is louder.

His head breaks the water, and he watches as the first waves of each side hit each other. White uniforms against darker colors, but both with equally bright steel. There are screams, panicked yells, and then he grins as another body hits the water. _White_ uniform.

It’s barely ten seconds before he’s woven around the wood in his way, seen the kicking legs, and grabbed them. He lets his teeth and nails slide into their true form, grabs hold of the sailor’s ankles, and _yanks_ him further down into the water. He doesn’t even give the human a chance to struggle, just wraps his arms around a heaving chest and sinks his teeth into the side of a tanned throat. There’s a muffled scream, blood and flesh heavy and _good_ on his tongue, and he shreds through white linen and into his prey’s sides for good measure.

There’s no hunger behind it, just the desire to _protect_ , so he only swallows the flesh he’s sliced away before shoving the human from him. A casual blow of his tail knocks the dying sailor away, and he turns back to the battle.

When he gets his head above water again, his gaze is instantly caught by the tall, lean figure defending one of the ropes strung between the ships. _Damian_. There’s a snarl on his human’s face, a bleeding slice across his arm and a similarly bloody sword. Damian’s engaged with one of the navy soldiers, winning as far as he can see from the exchange, but it makes his chest tight, makes him worry to see the blood on his human’s arm. Makes him want to shift his tail to legs, climb up there, and _tear_ the soldier apart to show everyone what happens when his human is harmed.

The soldier gets impaled and Damian shoves the body over the railing as he watches, blood streaking across the wood and the body hitting the water with the kind of splash that means that it’s already dead. Simultaneously, there’s another splash from farther away, and he takes another look at Damian, makes sure he’s alright, before diving down and heading for the other splash.

Another navy soldier. This one sees him coming, draws a knife and faces him with frightened eyes and frantic slashing. It doesn’t help; he’s much more maneuverable in the water than a human, and it’s simple enough to twist that knife out of the sailor’s hands and then back off just enough that he can twist and slam his tail into the sailor’s chest. He feels bone give under the impact, watches the rush of bubbles and the _pain_ on the soldier’s face. He takes a bit more time to enjoy it, circling the human and watching him choke on the water, watching the jerking, clawing motions as the human tries to get to the surface but can’t. Not in time.

There’s another splash, ripples in the water he can feel against his skin, and he turns away from the now-dead human to look for his next victim. Which is when the taste of blood in the back of his throat strengthens, and he ends up just _moving_.

There’s a body in the water that wasn’t there before, sinking downwards, pirate clothes, and by the pull in his chest and that taste of blood it’s _Damian_. He gets there as fast as he can, pulls Damian around by one arm and finds him limp, mouth open and blood slipping from a slice near the back of his head. Nothing fatal, but his human’s in the water and not breathing, not _conscious_.

He pushes his teeth down into their human form, takes hold of his human’s arms and shakes Damian as hard as he dares. Jade eyes snap open, lungs inflate, and it takes him a fraction of that breath to see what’s about to happen. Damian seizes, pain and panic clear on his human’s face as his body protests the inhalation of liquid instead of air.

He lunges forward, grabbing a handful of Damian’s hair to hold his human’s head still and sealing his mouth over Damian’s. Hands press against his shoulders, trying to push him away, but he ignores the pressure as he inhales, drawing the water from Damian’s lungs by force. Fingernails dig into his skin, the body against him jerking in a way that’s all too similar to dying struggles.

Damian is fighting him, not understanding yet, but he’s stronger. He raises his other hand, presses it over Damian’s mouth and nose as he pulls back enough that he can turn his head and exhale, blowing the water out. Another breath in, closing his mouth, swallowing the remaining water before he goes back to Damian. Those jade eyes are dimming a little bit, struggles getting weaker, and he pulls Damian back into the kiss, holding his human still as he blows a breath into his lungs.

Fingernails break skin, but Damian comes to life against him, gasping in the air he’s providing. The sting is worth it, for that feeling.

Legs press against either side of his waist, holding onto him as desperately as those hands. He repeats the exercise, sealing Damian’s mouth and nose closed just in case as he turns his head and draws another breath, before gifting it to Damian. Again, and again, until Damian’s calmed down and is just accepting each breath, holding him close but not nearly as desperately.

Then jade eyes meet his, and he lets Damian hold the breath he’s given as his human looks at him. He shifts the fingers in Damian’s hair, finds the open cut and explores its length with his fingers as Damian winces. It’s short, thankfully, maybe not even enough to knock him unconscious. The impact with the water might have done that. Then he raises his other hand to Damian’s arm, pulling the cloth out of the way so he can look at the bloody slice. That’s deeper, but not enough to worry him that much. Just enough to make him want to hurt the person that did it even though he’s fairly sure they’re dead already.

Damian’s fingers tap the back of his shoulder, and he raises his gaze as Damian’s mouth parts to exhale in a long stream of bubbles, understands the silent request without needing to be asked. He leans in, makes sure the excess water is out of his mouth, and gives Damian another breath.

Fingers curl in his hair, gripping tight and not letting him pull back for a moment. When he does he stays close, letting his forehead rest against Damian’s as he lets the fear of the moment slip away. God, he’s in over his head. _Again_. He hasn’t even fully claimed this human but already, without hesitation, he’s killed in defense of it and saved it from the sea. He can only imagine the pain that might come if he claims this one and ends up alone again, one way or another.

But he can’t help it.

He traces his fingers down across the skin that held the bite mark, long since healed, then lowers his hand to take Damian’s still partially injured arm and bring it up. He can feel the wrap of bandages, hiding what he knows are half-healed wounds, beneath the sleeve of Damian’s top, and he gently squeezes the arm in something like apology as he lowers his head and presses a soft kiss to the side of Damian’s throat. He wants to bite down again, to leave another mark, but restrains himself.

Damian shudders, gripping him a little tighter, and he raises his head so he can find the surface. A few strong beats of his tail gets him up there, and he brings them high enough that they breach the water and Damian drags in a harsh, long breath. He keeps both of them aloft with hardly any real effort, watching Damian breathe and feeling the hands on him flex and tighten.

Then Damian looks up at the two ships, something calculating in that gaze, even as it lowers back to him.

“We need the advantage; a way to surprise them and get them off of the offensive,” his human announces. “Can you help me do that?”

He doesn’t even think as he answers, “Yes.”

Damian’s grin is nearly bloodthirsty enough to be one of his own kind’s, even through the spark returning to light his human’s eyes. “Good. Get me to the back of their ship.”

He nods, guiding Damian to rest a little more firmly against him. “Hold your breath,” he advises, waits till Damian has done it, and then dives under the waves. Damian holds tight to him, weathering the speed he moves without struggle as he slips beneath the bottom of the navy ship, around to the opposite side of the battle. It’s almost quiet on the other side, but he still brings them up very close to the ship to hide in the shadow of it.

Damian’s breath is less harsh this time, and takes less time to even out. His human lets go with the hand not curled in his hair, reaching up to grip on the wooden protrusions with a sure hand, hanging onto the ship. Then attention turns back to him.

“Scare them,” his human orders, fingers sliding along his scalp. “Get them off the ropes and back on their ship. The crew will take care of the rest.”

Damian lets go, starts to pull himself up, and he tightens his grip and breathes, “ _Wait_.”

Damian pauses, and that’s enough of an opening for him to reach up and grip the ship as well, holding himself as steady as he can while he leans in and gets his mouth on the side of Damian’s throat. Damian draws in a sharp little breath when he bites down, then draws the top layer of skin between his carefully-human teeth to make it bruise. Instinct calls for him to show his true teeth, to bite down and really _claim_ the human, but he shoves it down, vents the urge by biting a little harder.

“What are you doing?” Damian demands, sounding just a bit breathless.

He lets go and draws back enough that he can rub his nose over Damian’s throat, then up against his cheek. His mouth parts to answer, and then he just ends up giving a low growl as he tightens his grip on the wood until it creaks.

“You’re _mine_ ,” he says, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough not to carry over the water. “Don’t you _dare_ die up there, little human. Kill them all. Let me see what you can do.”

Damian breathes against his mouth, and there’s something to the slight narrowing of his human’s eyes that looks almost hungry, like he might get bitten in return. The thought is more welcome than it should be. He almost wants to raise his chin or tilt his head to the side to offer a better target. An easier one.

Now is _not_ the time.

“I expect to see more blood than water between our ships when this crew surrenders,” Damian answers, in a voice lower and rougher than the normal. “Do not disappoint me, Jason. You seem sure of your ownership of me; _prove_ I should allow it.”

He exhales against the rush of excitement in his chest, presses forward against Damian and feels the legs around his waist tighten, the hand in his hair curl tighter. “I—” His words catch in his throat, and then he’s breathing, “I ask for permission to court you, Damian al Ghul, son of the Queen of the Seas and the Law’s Shadow.” Words he’s only ever said once before, in all his years. Words as ingrained in his mind as his own name. “I ask permission to show you the gifts and strength I have to offer, for the chance to have you at my side. Will you allow me that?”

Damian’s eyes are wide, knees hard against his waist, and he bites his tongue not to speak. Not to _ruin_ this. He knows it seems like out of nowhere to the human. The fight, the partial claim, the weeks of watching and dancing, none of that is the kind of buildup to them as it is to his kind. Damian probably doesn’t understand how very intimate sharing breath is, in the eyes of his people. Especially since he did it to save the human’s life, with no warning or request for consent like he would have in any situation of less immediate emergency.

He keeps himself still, rationalizes that someone of his kind might keep a suitor waiting for quite awhile, to test their resolve. He learned patience a long time ago.

Then Damian eases, pulls him closer and kisses him with a sharp nip of teeth he longs to return, but manages to hold back. “Are there words I should say back?”

He shivers a little bit, nods, but says, “A ‘yes’ is fine, you don’t have to—”

“Tell me the words,” Damian demands, fingers tight in his hair.

The wood cracks under his grip, and he almost whines at how much of a relief it is to hear that demand. “Just— Just repeat after me,” he whispers, and Damian does.

“Jason of the depths — the Red Death — I grant you permission to court me. I ask you to show me your strength, skill, and desire, and allow me to choose whether or not to keep you at my side when you have. Will you allow me that?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he answers, the moment Damian is done with the words, and then leans in and presses his mouth to Damian’s, pushing his human back against the wood of the ship. He has to force himself to pull away after a few moments, but he only goes as far as it takes to separate their mouths. “Any gift you want,” he promises, against Damian’s mouth. “Just tell me what you want from me and I’ll make it happen.”

Damian shivers, and then there’s a burst of sharp, dangerous laughter. “Gift me _blood_ ,” his human hisses. “Turn the waters red and gift me this ship, and then control of my own.”

He gives a breathless groan at the thought, beating his tail beneath the water to vent the desire to drag Damian down beneath it and let go of some of this control.

“Anything, my human,” he whispers.

Damian lets go of his hair, lets him slip down into the water, and gives a dangerous smirk. “Impress me, hunter.”

Damian climbs, and he returns to the battlefield between the ships. He brings pirates back to the sides of the ships to climb to safety, ends any soldiers he finds in the water in some of the bloodier ways he knows, and does as his human has asked for. He knocks soldiers from their spots with pieces of wood, scares them away from the railings and onto the defensive, and even retrieves a curl of rope and starts circling and yanking a few of them down to join him, before they pull too far away for him to get to, and he can take another swim through the field of splintered wood and shredded bodies.

There are several he finds still alive, and either helps to the ship or ends then and there. But when he finds Damian’s captain clinging to a broken plank to float, one leg broken, he only debates for a moment before remembering the second part of Damian’s request.

He slits the man’s throat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome! Actual interaction abounds in this chapter; I quite enjoyed writing it. XD (By the way, Camp NaNoWriMo starts today, so I will likely be a writing _fiend_. Should be fun. XD) Enjoy!

There’s a feeling in his chest that brims like excitement. Or, something more _wild_ , more _dangerous_. Some combination of satisfaction, anticipation, and awe that he can’t put an accurate word to.

It started when he was on the navy’s ship, killing one soldier after another before they realized he was there, all too focused on the threat in front of them to see the one in back. When they began to backtrack, when it became clear they were _afraid_ of something, he knew it had to be Jason. What else could scare a ship full of hardened military men except something truly _terrifying?_

When they took the ship, the way his crewmates looked at his collection of victims, and then to him, left him smirking. At the absence of anyone else’s command he took it, ordering the surviving soldiers restrained and the ship stripped of everything useful except the supplies the remaining crew members would need to survive a run to the nearest friendly port. Ordered guards to watch the prisoners as he supervised everything else that needed to be done before they could sail away. Patching any damage to their ship that couldn’t wait, storing those supplies, and retrieving the bodies of their crew from the water between their ships.

A glance told him that the water really was more red than blue, and the collection of bodies down there… Well, nearly all are wearing uniforms that once upon a time, were white.

And now, looking down at the retrieved body of his captain — no one had wanted to go down into that grisly sea to retrieve their bodies, but he’d insisted — he knows that Jason delivered on everything he asked for. Just like that.

The crew is shaken enough, both by the ambush and the talk of some _thing_ in the water, that seizing control is easy. He announces his real name, claims the ship as his own, and no one, not even the first mate, fights him on it. He’s not naive enough to think it will be that easy in the long run, he expects to have to prove that he knows what he’s doing and that he has the stomach to enforce his orders, but this will do for now. He’s sure that he can survive whatever the less pleased crew members try and throw at him.

He claims the captain’s quarters for his own, moves his single chest of belongings in and then sets to work beside his new subordinates. He helps, and makes sure everything is set away and ready, until they separate from the other ship and leave them behind, making sure to cover enough distance to not be easily tracked down again before the night is over.

After that is where the challenges set in, and he takes steps to prove his competency right off the bat. He takes the next shift for himself, lets the crew whose sleep was interrupted sleep for a couple hours before normal shifts resume. The next one would have been his anyway, he just fulfills it from a different position.

It isn’t until night falls again, and the first mate takes over without a word against him, that he can retire.

The captain’s quarters are lower in this ship, not quite as much the obvious target as usual, and he appreciates it this time as he enters, locks the door, and immediately crosses over to the circular window. He pushes the glass open so he can look outside, not entirely surprised when he doesn’t see anything. He’s only about a half dozen feet above the water, so it’s simple work to grab two of the captains sashes — garish colors; he never liked them — tie them together, and drop one end down to trail in the water.

He thought it would work, but he’s a little surprised by how quickly there’s suddenly tension on the other end of the sashes. Jason appears a moment later, letting go of the fabric to climb the side of the ship instead, right up until he has his arms crossed over the window’s ledge, muscle holding him there. There’s a grin on his hunter’s lips, but something dark and deadly in his eyes. It doesn’t feel like a threat though, more like something carefully controlled, leashed, and entirely at his command. It’s thrilling.

“Captain,” Jason says quietly, almost mocking.

“Suitor,” he answers, and Jason’s eyes darken a little more. “You gave me what I wanted.”

Jason’s head dips down, teeth grazing over the back of his hand where it’s braced on the window, lingering until he speaks. “I told you that I would.”

He finds himself swallowing, finds his fingers tangling in Jason’s wet hair and pulling the merman into a kiss he barely resists starting off with a bite. Jason tastes like blood and salt, and the low growl that rumbles from the merman, the sound of nails digging into the wood beneath him and the crack as it splinters, makes him gasp in a small breath. He’s almost expecting to be bitten, like that first time, but it doesn’t happen.

When he pulls back Jason’s eyes are closed, teeth showing but not bared, and a glance down proves that there are now ragged claw marks marking the sill of his new window. The thought of the damage those claws can do, what he’s _seen_ the proof of, probably shouldn’t light the hunger in his gut that it does.

“Come in,” he demands, tugging at Jason’s hair once before he steps back and makes room.

Jason pushes up, and he stares and marvels at the strength in those corded arms as Jason climbs through the window and pulls in that long, deadly tail behind him. He remembers how heavy that tail is, and the strength to be able to pull it behind him without it looking like an effort adds a little more fire to the building desire in his gut. Then it shifts, and Jason’s head tilts back as the scales melt down, overtaken by pale skin that slowly becomes two long, muscled legs.

Jason stands, and for a moment his gaze gets drawn to the length between Jason’s legs, hanging limp but still fairly impressive. Then he takes a slow, lingering look over Jason’s human form, following the lines of muscle and the curves where bones rest beneath the skin. Follows the tracks of long scars and small ones, showing proof of claws and teeth and some that look a lot like they’re from blades. Things most men would have died from.

Jason turns, arms held slightly out to his sides as he slowly rotates. His breath catches at the realization that Jason is not only allowing but encouraging him to look, to examine, to _judge_. He also realizes that there’s a kind of tension to Jason’s muscles, one that’s even more apparent when his merman turns all the way back around and that deadly mouth is slightly parted, head just barely bowed, gaze so intense it feels like he’s the sole focus of the world.

“Are you impressed?” Jason asks, and there’s a rhythm and a hunger to the question that feels like challenge and something deep and important all at once.

He considers — Jason’s looks, his gifts, his _power_ — and then simply answers, “I am.”

Jason steps forward, seems to pause for an instant as if giving him the chance to reject the advance before continuing. He stays still, waiting until Jason is sliding hands through his hair and pulling him into a hard kiss, and only then touching Jason’s waist with both hands, digging his fingers into that scarred skin and pulling the merman closer. Teeth graze over his tongue, his lips, and he _almost_ bites back before remembering the almost ritualistic way Jason had marked his throat and deciding against it.

He twists his head away instead, breaks the kiss to the sound of a small snarl and turns down to press his mouth to the inside of one of Jason’s wrists instead. He does let his teeth drag across Jason’s skin for that, and then smirks in satisfaction when Jason actually shivers a little bit.

“ _Damian_ ,” Jason growls, low and sounding one step away from eating him alive. It should probably worry him how satisfied it makes him to know that Jason is controlling himself _purely_ for his sake. On his order.

He draws back from Jason’s wrist, raises his gaze to the blue-green one staring down at him, and loosens his grip on Jason’s waist. “I wish to know more about this courtship.” He pulls back, freeing himself from Jason’s grasp, and then wraps one hand around Jason’s arm and tugs the merman with him. “Lie down with me, and teach me.”

Jason yields to his touch without even a pretense of struggle, allowing himself to be pulled along to the bed inlaid against one wall. “As you wish.”

He lies down and presses his back to the wall, leaving room for Jason to follow him down onto the narrow bed. They’re almost pressed together for a moment, before Jason shifts a bit back and, to his surprise, lies down on his stomach. The merman’s head is still turned towards him, but the expanse of his back is open and bared, and by the way Jason tilts to nuzzle against his lower shoulder, eyes closing, he thinks that’s a very intentional position. A simple but important show of trust.

He raises his hand to touch the small of Jason’s back, and then run his fingers slowly up the length of his merman’s spine. Jason hums a noise that sounds pleased into his shoulder, nips a little bit and then immediately soothes the sting with another hum and a gentle kiss.

It’s difficult to resist the urge to curl his hand to nails and see if Jason likes that as much as the grazes of teeth, but he does. Later, he can experiment with his merman’s responses.

“Ask what you want to know,” Jason tells him, head turning a little farther and eyes opening again, looking up at him. “Anything.”

That offer steals his breath for a moment; there are so many _things_ he wants to know, so many as of yet untapped resources that must be locked in the head of a creature who’s lived as many years as Jason has. There _has_ to be. But he reins those impulses in, narrowing his questions to the ones actually related to the topic he’s professed immediate interest in. Mainly, finding out precisely what he’s gotten himself into by agreeing to this ‘courtship.’

He strokes over Jason’s back, idly tracing the lengths of scars and the planes of smooth skin before asking, “Have you done this before?”

“Courting?” Jason asks, voice low, and at his confirming nod the merman gives a small shrug. “Once, a long time ago and with one of my own kind.” He waits, and Jason’s gaze falls for a moment. “It didn’t go well; he asked and I left. It was my mistake.”

There’s more to that story, but he swallows away his curiosity and slides his hand up instead, tangling his fingers in Jason’s hair and drawing him up into a relatively soft kiss. Brief, but enough for Jason to give a quiet sigh and relax a little bit. He lets go, trails his fingers down Jason’s neck and back to the lines of his back.

“You have been with others though, yes?” He finds it a little hard to believe that Jason, in all those countless years, has never been with anyone but the one other merman.

Sure enough, Jason gives a small grin and nuzzles his shoulder again. “Yes. Humans. No one I courted though, those were simpler. Not that I didn’t…” Jason’s brow draws down, and his eyes close. “I cared for them, I claimed them, but this is… Courting is different, for my kind.”

“Explain the difference.”

Jason moves, rolling over to lie on his back instead and look up at him. One hand rises, finding the slightly sore bruise on the side of his throat, the mark sucked into his skin. “This is a claim,” Jason murmurs, and then quickly adds, “Well, half a claim. A full one would be a bite that drew blood, with my real teeth.” He winces at the thought, and Jason gives a little snort. “I can draw blood without shredding your throat; promise.” Then the amusement drains away, Jason’s fingers still lingering on the mark on his throat. “I shouldn’t have done this. I knew I wanted to claim you, but I didn’t think about courting until I’d already… I’m sorry.”

He considers that information, resting his hand on Jason’s chest, between the impressive pectorals and near a thin scar that follows the line of one rib to his side. “Later,” he decides, “you can tell me why that matters. For now, continue with the explanation.”

A nod, and Jason shifts a little closer to him.

“Claiming is… _violent_ , usually. It’s accepted among my kind that if one of us can defeat another, they have the right to claim who they’ve defeated, if they want to. It’s temporary, not a for-life thing, but it’s pretty common for claims to be forced.” Jason’s eyes snap up, and there’s a quick explanation of, “It’s not _bad_. I mean, we don’t allow repeated, abusive claims. It’s just seen as a right the winner has, if they think the other person is good enough to want a brood with them. Most of the pairings among my kind are like that. I know it’s… different, for humans. I’ve seen that.”

“Then, courtship is…?”

Jason raises his far hand, curling powerful fingers around the hand he has on the merman’s chest. “It’s… I guess it’s sort of like your normal relationships? I think? It’s asking for the chance to prove that I’m good enough to be your only partner until one of us dies. To prove that I can protect you, provide for you, and that I feel enough for you to never leave. This is… It’s _important_. I’m asking to be your equal, not just your mate, and I’m… I’m putting the choice in your hands. No matter what that choice is.”

He thinks he understands. Carefully, he tugs his hand free of Jason’s, and raises it to trace his fingers across that smooth jaw, up to the shell of an ear. “That is the important part, right? The fact that I am given the power to choose whether I think _you_ are worthy? Normally, the theoretically ‘weaker’ partner would simply submit to whatever the victor decided, as was expected?”

Jason nods, then twists his head a bit to press that open mouth against his palm. “Yes _._ Whatever you want.”

“Even if what I wanted was for you to leave and not come near my ship again?”

There’s a flash of tension, a sharp little snarl, before Jason turns and faces him directly, holding his gaze for a moment before breathing, “ _Yes_. If that’s what you wanted, then I’d go.”

He runs his fingers back through Jason’s hair, then leans down and tugs his merman into a kiss. Jason lets him control it, one hand touching the back of his neck and then gripping a light handful of the hair at the base of his skull. Not pulling, just holding.

He kisses Jason until he feels almost dizzy from the lack of air, and then draws away, letting his fingers drift across Jason’s cheek as he pulls up a bit. “You are putting quite a bit of power in my hands,” he comments.

Jason’s mouth curls into a grin that really has too many teeth in it to be entirely friendly. “I know.”

He scoffs, pulling his hand back so he can press his arm against Jason’s chest and hold himself up. “One night, and I am the captain of this ship. What I could do with you in a week, a _month_ …” He taps his fingers against Jason’s shoulder, considers the possibilities, and then asks, “What if I asked you for something impossible? Something you could not possibly gift me?”

The hand in his hair pulls him down, and he expects to be kissed but then Jason is just pressing their foreheads together, nose rubbing along his as the merman’s other hand touches his chest. He’s starting to believe the nose thing is some kind of claiming behavior as well; a less overt one.

The hand pressed against his chest clenches down, grabbing a handful of his shirt, before Jason murmurs, “I’ll give you anything I can manage. Don’t demand what I can’t?”

“Is that my part in this?”

Jason makes a sound somewhere between a growl and a hum, still holding his head down, then gives a low laugh and catches his mouth for just a moment. “You think I’m the only person getting tested? Goes both ways, captain.”

There’s a soft sigh against his mouth, and then Jason lets go of him and relaxes back down against the bed. He feels the changing texture against his legs, and has to look down before he understands it. Jason’s legs are shifting back into a tail, reddish-black scales coming back to the surface and feet practically melting until they become that large, solid fin at the end of the tail. He watches, partially in awe and partially for the chance to try and understand the mechanics of it. Though he’s nearly certain that it’s just something he’s going to have to disregard as magical, because he can’t think of another way for Jason to shift between the two sets of limbs.

He slowly lowers his hand, watching for any signs of displeasure as he touches those scales, runs his fingers over them. They’re dry beneath his fingers, but smooth, hard, with edges too rough to be entirely comfortable rubbing against. Jason’s still beneath his touch, and when he looks up he finds the merman watching him in turn, studying his expression.

“Why did you change back?” he finds himself asking. “I thought you would wish to remain mobile.”

Jason gives a crooked smirk. “I can change fast enough to stop anyone who tries something, and it’s more comfortable for me to be in my real form.”

He glances down at the tail, his hand resting near the slight curve where Jason’s hip would be. Maybe still is, beneath those scales. “Does it hurt to have legs?”

“No. It just feels…” Jason trails off, apparently looking for the words. “Stiff. It’s not painful, it’s just not natural.”

He studies Jason, looks at all that muscle, at the color of his eyes, the black hair with that white streak. “Show me your true form. All of it.”

Jason pauses, waiting a moment as if making sure that he’s serious, before giving a slow dip of his head. There’s a moment of silence, where Jason’s eyes close, and then the merman eases back against the bed, loose underneath his touch. He swallows as he watches Jason’s mouth part a little bit, teeth growing up into a forest of needle-sharp points, before his attention gets caught by the way Jason’s nails are growing as well, into similarly sharp points. Jason turns his head, looks up at him, and those blue-green eyes have gone deep and bottomless, like the ocean itself. It’s a subtle change, he can’t say what’s different about it, but it’s there.

Drawn by something he can’t name, he raises his hand to Jason’s face, very carefully pressing his fingers against those teeth. Jason stays utterly still, letting him explore the sharp tips as he wants. He gets why when he presses just a little bit the wrong way, and one of those edges splits his skin right along the edge of his finger without even a fraction of warning. He hisses, pulling his hand back and frowning at the sliver of blood welling on it.

Jason gives a low, slightly odd-sounding laugh, that mouth of death curving into something like a grin.

“Amused, are you?” he asks rhetorically. Jason’s hand rises, _carefully_ touching his wrist and he doesn’t even feel the nails against his skin. “Can you speak with those?” Jason shakes his head, and then the teeth are melting back down, to normal, mostly dull human ones.

“Here,” Jason whispers, pulling his hand forward. He sucks in a small breath as Jason draws his sliced finger inside his mouth, tongue sliding wet and warm along his skin. Jason’s eyes shutter closed, a quiet rumble of satisfaction vibrating around his finger. As if he’s a treat.

“You do not intend to make me bleed just to taste it, do you?”

Jason laughs again, sounding a little startled, and when his finger comes free from Jason’s mouth those bottomless eyes flatten out a bit, and the claws recede back to normal nails. “No,” Jason says, past a grin. “There are less painful ways I could taste you, my human.” The flick of Jason’s gaze downwards leaves no room for debate on what the words mean, and he has to fight back the urge to swallow again.

“Maybe later,” he allows, instead. “I have more questions.”

“Go for it,” Jason answers.

He considers his mental list, letting his eyes roam over Jason’s shoulders and scars as he chooses which to ask first. “Earlier, you said you should not have bitten me. Why not?”

Jason winces. “That’s— Claiming someone before asking to court them is almost unthinkable, among my kind. Claims affect both partners’ minds; it wouldn’t be fair or right to ask for something permanent when the other person is being driven to cooperate with you. It’s manipulative and awful. The only reason I asked to court you after doing that is because I know that claims don’t affect humans. The bite affected _me_ , it still sort of is, but I knew it wouldn’t affect your judgement.”

“But then, if you knew I wouldn’t be affected, why do you feel guilty now? Nothing has happened.”

He gets a small shrug in answer, and a halting, “I guess… It just still feels wrong to me. Doesn’t really matter that I knew you’d be fine; it feels like I cheated.”

“You didn’t,” he insists. The only answer he gets is a wince and a clearly unbelieving look from Jason, so he rolls his eyes and shakes his head a little bit. “Alright, other topics. The humans you claimed; what happened to them?”

Jason’s breath catches, and when he raises his gaze there’s a sharp tinge of pain to the expression he finds. Until steel closes down over it. “They died,” Jason answers, flatly. “Some by my hand, some by others.”

He stills, and Jason holds his gaze unflinchingly. “You killed some of them? Wouldn’t that—?”

“Hurt?” Jason finishes. “Yes. But it was better than allowing myself to be sold by them, or cut to pieces. Humans don’t feel the loyalty that the claim brings to life in me. There’s nothing holding them to it and I… I’m a hell of a prize; worth a lot of money. Not all of my choices have been good ones.”

Jason seems to take his silence as a request for more information, even though it’s only born from the fact he can’t think of how to respond. A hand curls around his, brings his fingers to rest on the thin scar tracing the line of a rib that he’d been studying earlier.

“This was from the first human I ever claimed. I was young, naive, I’d never really been around humans, and he looked at me like I was this unbelievable _gift_ in his life.” Jason scowls and it’s a bitter thing, gaze rising towards the ceiling as his teeth flash in a snarl. “When he thought he had me _tamed_ , after _weeks_ , he turned on me. He wanted to take me apart piece by piece and sell them to the highest bidder; tried to convince me that it would just be small things, _little_ things, and we could still be together, be happy.” Jason snorts, lets go of the hand resting on the scar. “Said that _as_ he was slicing my side open to see if he could just reach in and snap some of my rib off.”

“So you killed him,” he puts into the story, and Jason nods.

“Yeah. I broke free, dragged him out to the ocean, and held him as he drowned.” Jason gives a small shiver, twisting in towards him. “It was _agony_ , but it was better than the alternatives.”

He traces the length of the scar, considering his words, and then murmurs, “I am glad you chose as you did, if that matters.”

Jason’s expression softens, and then the merman twists to press a kiss to his shoulder. “It does. Thank you.”

He lets the silence stay for a minute or so, gently tracing his fingers over Jason’s skin, and enjoying the feeling of Jason’s breath against his shoulder. There’s a vulnerability to the way his merman’s head is turned, throat bared, and he lets his hand drift up to touch that. Jason’s eyes open, looking up at him, but he isn’t stopped so he lets his fingers explore the feeling of muscle and delicate bone, finding Jason’s pulse with his thumb. Jason stays still, relaxed and trusting, and it makes his breath catch a little bit.

The fact that a creature so powerful, so _deadly_ , is allowing him to touch its throat without so much as a flash of teeth in warning…

He draws his hand away, resting it on Jason’s collarbone as he meets the blue-green gaze looking up at him. “I want you to tell me about courtship,” he demands, and Jason gives a small nod. “The rituals, the mechanics, all of it.”

Jason winces, and then raises a hand to touch his outside shoulder, very gently grasping it. “I don’t expect you to follow my kind’s rituals. They’re extreme for humans, violent, and you shouldn’t have to—”

“I can handle violence,” he interrupts. “Tell me, Jason.”

A pause, and then Jason dips his head a bit. “As you wish.” There’s another small pause where Jason’s brow furrows a little, teeth biting into his lower lip like he’s thinking about it. “In a courtship, the courted partner tests the other in whatever way they want. Usually that’s fighting — play, not serious — to test each other’s skills, endurance, and strength, or some kind of hunt or chase to do the same thing. Asking for gifts, or shows of loyalty and commitment. For us, courtship is _trials_. It’s making sure that a partner is willing to endure or do anything you want and, on the opposite side, to make sure that the person you’ve chosen isn’t going to demand or expect something you can’t do.”

“So,” he starts slowly, “I can test you however I want to, until I decide whether or not to accept?”

“That’s right.”

He lets his gaze slip down Jason’s chest, feels that now almost-familiar heat in his gut at the thought of having something so _powerful_ wrapped around his fingers. “Then, if I said I wanted you to lie on your stomach and let me lay bites down your sides, so you could be marked too…”

He lets the thought trail off, and watches Jason swallow, the _hunger_ that flares in those eyes as they narrow.

“I’d say you sound like one of my kind,” Jason says, voice slipping towards a growl. “The mer I courted never let his marks fade from my skin, like I never let mine fade from his.”

There’s something in him that’s unfurling, some instinct enforced by his mother and the violence he grew up in. He lowers his hand down to brush against Jason’s scales, demanding, “Give me your legs back,” and Jason does it. No hesitation, just a breath and then the scales are fading beneath his fingers.

He pushes himself up with a flat palm to the center of Jason’s chest, swinging a leg over Jason’s hips to perch over him, to look down at still-hungry eyes and the faintest hint of a snarl. He slides his hands up, grips Jason’s wrists and drags them up to pin them on either side of Jason’s head. He presses his knees in against Jason’s sides, leans his weight down into those wrists and curls his mouth into a smirk.

“Well maybe, if you win, I’ll let you leave a few of those marks.” Jason’s eyes light up, hands twisting against his grip. “Or maybe—” he leans down, sliding to a better position with his weight off his knees, as he bares his teeth “—I’ll win, and I can see how much you enjoy being bitten.”

Jason is leashed power beneath him; muscle flexing and coiling like he’s an inch from striking. “You already have me pinned,” Jason points out in a rumble, and he smirks.

“Well, you’re stronger than me.” He tightens his grip till it feels like he’ll bruise the skin beneath it, letting himself sink down to instinct and anticipation. “You can handle a little disadvantage, can’t you, suitor?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I really enjoyed writing this one; hope you enjoy it just as much! XD

_“You can handle a little disadvantage, can’t you, suitor?”_

The words spark _sharp_ desire deep in the pit of his stomach, and he has to fight not to just surge up and fling Damian to the floor, to hunt and claim and _take_ the way he wants to. He swallows to contain the reaction, venting with a small snarl and a twist of his body to test the weight pressed down over him. The fingers around his wrists tighten even further, hard enough that there’s the delicious ache of pain and he knows he’ll wear rings of bruises around them. Damian probably doesn’t know how much he _relishes_ the thought.

“Rules?” he asks, holding himself back and carefully restrained much more than Damian’s actual pin is doing.

Damian's eyes are partially lidded, lips curled back to bare teeth, and the sound that comes from deep in his human's throat is vicious and dark enough that he feels himself responding, feels the desire in his gut start to spread. _Gods_ , he didn't know that he could feel desire this _strong_ for a human. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be challenged, to be met as an _equal_. It's an intoxicating kind of desire; deep and dark and all-consuming. Dangerous in the best of ways.

"Do not break anything," Damian says, voice low and with a steel edge of command, "and do not draw blood with your teeth or nails. If you pin and make me yield, you win. If I bite you, _I_ win."

He can't help the groan that drags itself from his chest, or the way his head tilts back, eyes flickering shut for a second at the thought of Damian's teeth in his skin. "You're making me want to lose on purpose," he admits, as he twists against the solidity of Damian's weight.

"Do not _dare,_ suitor," Damian snarls, and then his human is moving, mouth opening, and he just reacts.

He jerks his shoulder up into Damian's teeth to disorient him, and then braces his feet against the bed, coils his muscle, and surges up against Damian's pin. His human is smaller, lighter, and no real match for his strength, so the brute force tactic works. He twists and flings Damian towards the wall-side of the bed, and his human cracks into the wood with a heavy thud and a whoosh of air. He's moving as Damian falls, turning and rising on his arms to box his human in between his body and the wall.

Damian flips over, and he's so distracted by the flash of those teeth and the twist of that waist that he entirely misses his human's gathering legs until they slam into his low chest, kicking him over the edge of the bed. He crashes to the floor, breath knocked out of him, his chest aching with the force of the blow. It pulls a grin to his mouth. He rolls to his stomach, rising as Damian slips off the bed and facing his human.

Damian's mouth curls into a smirk, weight shifted forward and knees bent, confidence easy to read in that smirk and the satisfaction in those jade eyes. "Out of practice?" his human taunts.

"Been awhile," he admits, rolling his shoulders back to ease a little bit of that ache. "That as hard as you can hit, little human?"

" _Hardly_."

Damian's _fast_ , is the first thing he learns, and it's welcome. His human goes from standing to lunging in the span of a second, and he reacts just in time to catch the sharp jab of rigid fingers towards his throat, wrapping a hand around Damian's wrist and keeping the momentum by jerking his human farther past to get at his back. He turns with Damian, reaching out to grab the back of that linen shirt, but misses as Damian drops down, hand wrapping around his wrist in turn and _yanking_ downwards. It's not strong enough to get him all the way down, but it's enough of a distraction to let Damian lash out and slam a foot into the back of his knee. It buckles instantly, slamming him to the floor and pulling a grunt of pain from between his teeth.

Damian starts to pull his arm behind his back, and he rolls his shoulder forward and pulls right back, muscle straining. Damian gasps as he's dragged forward and around, until he has the angle and the momentum to slam his human into the floor, not hard enough to do any real damage but enough to keep him there for half a second. Before he can capitalize on it, Damian's hand is twisting his wrist, pressing hard into the side of it and his arm flinches down as _sharp_ pain radiates up it. He hisses, letting go of Damian's wrist to ease the angle his is twisted at.

It's startling when Damian, instead of backing away, just pushes up and _goes_ at him, crashing into him with the full force of the lean muscle on his frame. He falls back, automatically grabbing at Damian's waist as hands hit his shoulders and bear him down, cracking him into the ground with a whole lot more force than he used on Damian. He grunts, feels Damian press down between his thighs, and he bares his teeth and _twists_. Damian yelps as he's tossed off, jade eyes widening as he hits the floor and rolls, and he _chases_. This time he gets to Damian before his human can get back up.

He grabs Damian's arms and drags him back and on top of him, pressing his back to the wood and wrapping his arms around his human's chest. One clamps down low across his human's stomach, pinning both arms against that waist, and he raises the other so he can grab Damian's jaw, holding it closed with Damian's head pinned back against his shoulder. Damian struggles, and it takes a bit of work but he manages to get his legs wound around Damian's, pinning them as well.

"Go on, little human," he taunts, just a bit breathless, "bite me _now_."

Damian gives a muffled growl, thrashing against his grip, but he's just plain stronger, and he has Damian trapped securely enough that it would take _strength_ to break free. He holds Damian, tilting his head against that black hair and growling back, deeper and darker. He restrains the urge to bite into that throat, closing his eyes and just breathing in slow and steady through his nose so he can _smell_ his human instead. Skin and spice and salt fill his nose, along with the faintest trace of blood, and he gives a strained groan into Damian's ear.

"The way you _smell_ ," he breathes. "Yield, Damian. Be _mine_."

Damian shudders against him, and he barely resists grinding his hips and semi-hard length up against Damian's ass. His human gives a muffled noise that sounds like speech, breathing hard, and then goes soft against him, all that muscle just giving in and relaxing. Slowly he eases his grip, lowering his head so he can rub his nose against Damian's throat as he lets his human out of the pin. Damian draws in an almost-gasping breath when his mouth parts, head twisting towards him. He thinks he's about to get kissed for a moment, before Damian twists further, turning in his grip to lie on top of him, head pressing down against his shoulder, breath hot on his skin.

He _yelps_.

His fingers contract automatically, probably bruising Damian as he jerks. His shoulder, the one with _teeth_ in it, tries to snap away, but there's nowhere to go between Damian's teeth and the wood beneath them, so it just kind of flinches and stays where it is. One of Damian's hands presses against the center of his chest before his human pulls back, pushing up to straddle his waist, teeth coming loose from his shoulder.

He stares as Damian sits back, looking _infinitely_ pleased as he licks traces of blood off of those lips. "I win," his human nearly purrs.

"I—” His shoulder stings. "I pinned you."

Damian smirks, weight resting heavy on his waist and keeping him down, more or less. "I do not recall yielding," his human points out. "Have you never had prey play dead before, Jason?" That hand on his chest slides down, curling to tease nails over his skin until he gasps, before Damian leans down over him, still smirking. "Next time, suitor, you should make sure I've surrendered before you let me go."

The banked desire in his gut starts to stir again as he stares at the human above him. "Play dead? You—” He shakes his head, _laughs_ , and then reaches up and grabs Damian's head, dragging his surprised human down into a hard, open kiss. " _Damian_ ," he breathes into it.

Damian presses down just as hard, a hand finding his hair and sliding into it while the other curls nails against his stomach, fanning the flame beneath his skin. He wraps his other arm around Damian's waist, pressing his palm against the shirt and wishing it were skin, wishing he could feel all of that against him, could _see_ it.

Eventually Damian pulls back, and he tightens his grip to keep his human close as he hisses, " _Gods_ , I _want_ you."

Damian is breathing harder, but there's still that edge of steel behind the order of, "Let go." He does, reluctantly, and Damian pushes another few inches back, enough that he opens his eyes and meets the jade ones looking down at him. Damian's eyes are narrowed, gaze intense and dark. "You owe me a prize," his human whispers. "On the bed, on your stomach."

His breath catches, the reminder of exactly what this was about hitting him with the force of a wave. His head tilts back as Damian gets off of him, his back arching a bit as he fights to keep himself under control, to not just _snarl_ at the thought of Damian's marks along his sides. He follows Damian up, catches his human for just a moment in another kiss, this one sharper but shorter, with a graze of teeth that he keeps carefully controlled and human.

"As you wish," he promises, then lets go and heads for the bed. It takes a moment for Damian to follow him, judging by the footsteps.

He lies down, bringing his arms up and underneath his head to bare his sides. He's almost too tall for the bed, all stretched out like he is, but it just barely works. He feels the brush of cloth over his legs, then Damian leans down over his back, hands pressing against his waist. He gives a sound of pleasure when Damian's mouth brushes over the back of his neck, fingers digging into his own arms as he arches his neck up into it.

"Give me your tail back," Damian demands, speaking against his skin.

He does it, relaxing the hold he has on his human form. The sensation is as familiar as breathing after so much time; no different than relaxing a muscle. One of Damian's hands slides down, and he shifts up into the brush of fingers across his scales. At least until Damian pushes him back down, hand flattening out and pinning him down with firm pressure.

"Stay," Damian hisses.

He obeys, relaxing into the bed. Damian makes a sound of satisfaction, and then the heat of that mouth is slipping down his spine, teeth grazing over his skin with every stop. He fights the urge to press up into it, letting himself relax into the feeling like he always has with his human partners and just enjoy the feeling. The pressure against one side of his tail stays, and Damian's other hand stays on his waist, just above where his scales start. Those fingers flex, gripping him a little bit harder, as Damian's mouth reaches the small of his back. That one lingers, before Damian's mouth and hands pulls away.

He twists his head to look back, and catches just the edge of a flash of motion. Adrenaline spikes in his veins, but before he can do more than start to jerk there's a hand in his hair, shoving his head back down into the bed. Another presses against the small of his back, pinning him down with warm, solid weight. He almost surges up, remembering the bite of a knife and the feeling of being betrayed, _again_ , before there's a dark, growling _snarl_ from above him.

The sound stills him for a second, cutting right to his bones and freezing him in place. Then that weight is pressing down over him, cloth brushing his back, and a second snarling growl gets let loose right against his ear, the grip in his hair tightening. He shivers a little bit, caught somewhere between the adrenaline of feeling attacked and the desire to just melt into the bed and let his courted do whatever he wants to do.

"I told you to _stay_ ," Damian says, in that same snarl.

Then his head is getting pulled to the side and teeth are sinking into the side of his neck, slow, but hard enough that he feels the sharp sting of his skin breaking beneath Damian's teeth, and can't help digging his fingers into the bed and shifting up against the feeling. Which earns him a muffled growl and the sharp rake of nails across his low back. It's probably meant to stop him, but he doesn't quite manage to bite back a moan, and he definitely can't stop the way he pushes his back up against Damian, against the nails and the teeth and feeling of that body layered over his.

Damian's jaw eases, letting the bite go and pulling back, breathing hot over his skin. "Are you incapable of obeying a simple command? Should I even give you more, suitor?"

He gives a hungry laugh, twisting his hands against the bedding. "I'll take anything you give me," he promises, _pleads_. "I'm sorry, I can't— I can't stay still; it's been too long."

"Since what?" Damian demands, poised over him.

He turns his head, catching Damian's expression out of the corner of his eye and straining so he can just barely meet that narrowed jade gaze. "Since anyone interacted with me like one of my own kind," he admits, voice somehow coming out quiet and honest.

He turns further, and Damian's grip loosens to let him flip over, lie on his back and look up at his human. He reaches up, curls his fingers through Damian's hair and pulls him down, leaning up to meet him halfway in a kiss that tastes like his own blood. _Gods_ , how that taste, that _feeling_ thrills him, sends anticipation and adrenaline sparking to every corner of his body in a way he hasn't felt in decades. How he aches, and wants, and _needs_.

"Damian," he whispers, and he realizes his hands are shaking faintly. "Just— _Fuck_ , just claim me, mark me, make me _bleed_. Make me _yours_ , little human; make me feel it in my _bones_. _Please_."

He feels Damian shudder, hands grabbing the outsides of his shoulders and digging in almost to the point of pain. There's a breathless moment where Damian is stiff and still, apart from the heavy pants against his mouth, and then he's being shoved down against the bed hard enough that he almost bounces off the stiff mattress. He flicks his eyes open, finds Damian's jade eyes narrowed, _vicious_.

"As you wish," Damian breathes, echoing his earlier words, before Damian _rakes_ the fingers digging into his shoulders down his arms.

He shouts, intertwined pain and pleasure tossing his head back and curling his mouth into a snarl. His back arches, right up into the sharp dig of teeth over the left side of his collarbone, and he reaches up to wrap his fingers through Damian's hair, to pull that mouth harder against him. At least until Damian's hand grabs his wrist and slams his arm into the bed before he can even brush that black hair.

" _No_ ," Damian snarls, body arching up enough that their eyes can meet. "You are mine, suitor, but I am _not_ yours. Not until I decide to allow it. You are not to touch without permission, is that understood?"

He stares for a moment, almost shocked, before he finds himself giving a rough laugh, shifting to feel the sting of bites and ache of bruises before lowering his hands to the bed and curling them into the bedding. "Understood, _captain_."

Damian's sudden smile is all teeth and satisfaction. The fingers release his wrist, and Damian leans back, bracing hands and knees to shift lower over his torso. Those jade eyes stay locked with his as Damian's hands rise and touch his sides, exploring with a sweep of fingers that's quickly followed by a mouth. He watches, grin fading away as anticipation rises in his chest, Damian's teeth grazing until they find a spot they apparently like, and then biting down hard and _fast_. He can't help the flinch of pain, sucking in a breath that expands his chest up into the teeth sunk into the muscle over one of his higher ribs, nearly on his side.

That mouth shifts a few inches down, bites again, and this time he groans, tightening his grip on the bedding to keep from reaching for Damian. He can feel the trickle of blood sliding across the back of his neck from Damian's earlier bite, feel more slowly beading to the surface from each fresh bite, and it makes his breath quicken, makes him twist his fingers into the bedding until it almost hurts. He _will not_ take what his courted has not offered, no matter how much he wants to pin Damian down to the bed and make his human _scream_ loud enough for the whole ship to know he's being taken.

__

_Fuck_ , does he want that, and thank the _gods_ he can control whether or not his erection is extended in his mer form. If he still had legs, Damian would know exactly how aroused he is, and how much he's holding back. He would gladly share if Damian asked, but he likes being able to keep at least a little bit secret from his courted. At least for now.

" _Damian_ ," he breathes, arching up into the fire of another bite over the side of his waist, shuddering at the thought of the bites laid all the way down his side.

Damian plants a hand in the center of his stomach, pushing up, and he looks down in time to see his human's tongue slide out and swipe over blood-tinted lips. The bedding rips between the fingers of his left hand, and the sound startles him enough that he lets go, staring down at the torn fabric. Damian is staring too, looking as startled as he feels, and he pushes up enough that he can get a clearer view of the new rip. It's not all that long, but it's along a seam and he can see the thread holding the rest of it together is snapped and definitely going to unravel further.

"Uh…” he says, into the silence. "I uh… I can get you new ones?"

Damian's gaze flicks back to him, there's a moment where his expression twists, and then his human is laughing, one hand rising to clasp over his mouth and muffle it. He stares, and then he pushes up a little further and lets his mouth curl in a small smirk, just _looking_ at his human. At the shaking of those shoulders, the way the laughter lights up those jade eyes, and the edges of a smile not quite covered by that hand.

Eventually Damian calms from laughter into snorts, and when Damian looks up at him again, he just whispers, "Gods you're gorgeous."

Damian's eyes widen, hand dropping down with a quietly shocked, "What?"

He pushes up a bit more, until he's nearly sitting up, and he's only separated from Damian by about a foot of space. "You're _gorgeous_ ," he repeats. "Your eyes and your skin and the—” He cuts off with a snort, then gives a crooked smirk and admits, "The color the blood makes your lips, the thought that if I kissed you I could _taste_ it…”

"It is _your_ blood," Damian reminds him, still looking a bit shocked.

His smirk widens. "That's not a negative, little human."

Damian's expression slips into a dark kind of hunger, one he's only _ever_ seen on other mer, before Damian shifts forward. He stays still as a hand winds into his hair, clenching at the back of his skull, and then another one loops underneath his arm to press flat against the top of his spine. Damian leans in a little further, _almost_ kissing him, and then the hand between his shoulders curls and drags down the length of his back.

He arches, shouts at the sudden fire of scratches down his spine, breath leaving him for just a moment. Then Damian's hand pulls away, coming back between them as his head is twisted a bit. Fingertips tap against his lower lip, and he nearly stops breathing entirely when he realizes those are the nails that just tore open his back, and the tips of them are bloody. _His_ blood.

"Clean them off," Damian demands, voice reverberating with the same kind of dark hunger as his expression.

He can't help the rumble of a growl from deep in his chest, but it doesn't stop him from parting his mouth and drawing Damian's fingers between his teeth. The taste of blood on his tongue is sharp and enticing, even if it's not the same _burst_ of information and flavor he gets from other people's blood. Human blood, usually. _God_ , how _Damian_ had tasted; all spice and the heat of something foreign and unknown on his tongue, like some of the dishes he's tried in far off human cultures, in fascinating colors and with mixtures of spices that he could only blindly guess at.

He closes his eyes, flicking his tongue along the tips of those fingers first, then feeling the carefully trimmed nails and the roughness of callouses as he explores slightly further down. He can hear how short Damian's breath is, feel the way that the hand in his hair is flexing in tiny, probably involuntary movements, and he pulls Damian's fingers a little further in and then closes his teeth down over them, firm enough to hold but gentle enough not to do damage. It's a careful line, especially with the itch in his gums to extend his _real_ teeth.

He growls around the fingers, and hears Damian's breath catch, _feels_ the little shudder. So he opens his eyes again, looking up and slowly letting his teeth drag down Damian's fingers, until they slip from his mouth to rest on his bottom lip again. Damian swallows and he smirks, letting his tongue slip out to catch the edges of those fingers again, which gets him a second little shudder.

"You are _savage_ ," Damian murmurs, and he almost tenses before his human is breathing, "and I wish the __world to know that you are _mine_."

Damian drags him into a kiss, tongue shoving in past his teeth like an invasion. A welcome one, in this case. Damian's free hand touches his jaw, feeling the edge of his hairline, thumb pressing underneath his jaw to keep his mouth only barely open. Damian's tongue slips back, he breaks the kiss to put a fraction of space between them, and he almost closes it again before restraining himself. Which is good, because then Damian's hand is tightening in his hair to hold him still, as the hand on his jaw curls a bit and digs in.

He has time for a sharp breath before Damian is dragging those nails across his skin, tearing lines down across his cheek and drawing a hiss from between his teeth. This time it's slow, drawn out so he feels every inch of the scratches as they happen, right up until Damian pulls away, leaving him with four scratches from his ear down across his cheek and to the corner of his mouth. He can feel and smell blood beading on them, and he gives a quiet groan and stops himself from reaching up and taking hold of Damian's waist or thighs.

"That's new," he comments, a little breathless and without opening his eyes.

Damian shifts on top of him, legs squeezing in against the sides of his tails as Damian all but snarls, "I do not intend _anyone_ to be able to see you without recognizing my claim, suitor. You are _mine_."

He opens his eyes, and for a moment his entire world is that blue-green shade of jade, circles of black within, until he whispers, "Anything you want, my courted. Just say the word."

For a moment Damian looks hungry again, looks like he _wants_ , and then his human takes in a slow, deep breath and murmurs, "No more tonight. I need to sleep; my next shift starts at dawn."

"Do you want me to go?" he asks, and Damian's grip tightens in his hair.

"Stay," is the immediate demand. "Share my bed, and guard my sleep."

He gives a small nod. "Are you worried that someone will try to take captain from you?"

Damian lets him go, but not before pushing him onto his back, and then moving down to tug the sheets out from under him. He lifts his tail to make it easier. "Not particularly," his human says, with a small shrug. "But I would rather have you guard me than be caught unawares by some fool with a knife, looking to capitalize on the temporary power imbalance. Realistically, I do not believe anyone on this ship to be stupid enough to attempt to assassinate someone of my lineage."

Damian pulls the sheets up over his tail, then gets off the bed and crosses the room. First to pull the window closed and latch it, and then to blow out the lantern hanging near the door. The room is almost instantly dark, but he tracks Damian coming back with the slightly faltering footsteps of someone navigating an unfamiliar room. His human lies down on the bed, and he turns onto his side so that when Damian presses backwards, they fit neatly together. He pulls the sheets up over both of them, looping a heavy arm over Damian's waist and pulling the smaller human harder against his chest, ducking his head to press his mouth, briefly, to the back of Damian's neck.

"Sleep, little human," he breathes, "I'll keep you safe."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome back! So, this is a chapter I know you all have been waiting for. Mainly, the one that finally snaps that sexual tension in half. I mean, it'll come right back, I promise, but it's gone for the moment. XD Enjoy!

He wakes to the feeling of a hand sliding against his waist, a mouth pressing kisses to the side of his throat with just the faintest graze of teeth behind them. He stirs, pushing back into the touches and slowly recalling the last couple of days, and then the night before. What must be Jason’s arm is heavy over his side, fingertips now tracing up his stomach and beneath the linen of his sleeping shirt, towards his chest.

“I do not recall giving you permission to touch me,” he murmurs, voice coming out in a soft drawl despite his attempted reprimand.

The hand on his chest stills, and then Jason speaks against the back of his neck, breath hot against his skin. “Do you want me to stop?” He sounds _much_ more alert, which is rather unfair.

He huffs out a breath and forces his eyes open, taking in the darkness of the cabin and just the faintest hint of light peeking in through the window. “What time is it?” he asks, deliberately not answering Jason’s question.

His non-answer gets Jason’s hand to resume its journey up his chest, fingers light against his skin. “Just before dawn. That’s your shift, right?”

“It is.” He shifts, turning his head back towards the shadowed figure at his back. The faint light reflects off of Jason’s eyes, much like he’s seen it shine off of felines’, making him realize that his hunter can probably see much better in the dark than he can. “Have you been awake this whole time?”

A flash of white teeth in the shadows. “No. I sleep in shorter bursts than humans do; I only need a couple hours at a time. It isn’t safe to be stationary and unaware for any longer in the oceans.”

He thinks about that for a moment, and then asks, “So when I found you on that island…?”

Jason gives a quiet laugh, and pulls him a little closer, up against the solidity of the merman. “I was careless that time, but yes, usually inner pools like that are much safer.” Jason hums in pleasure, grip on him tightening as the merman nuzzles the side of his throat. “The sun feels good too; I’d love to take you with me some day and show you.”

He reaches up, finding Jason’s head and sliding his fingers into that black hair. “I know what it is like to lie in the sun,” he says, scoffing. “I do not need a remote island pool to do so.”

“It’s not just lying in the sun,” Jason murmurs against his neck. “It’s the peace, the quiet, the solitude. To just _be_ ; totally safe.”

It _does_ sound pleasant, but he snorts and tugs a bit at Jason’s hair anyway, unable to resist commenting, “Apart from any pirates that may attempt to capture you?”

A snort to echo his own, and then he can feel his hunter grin against his neck. “Yeah, apart from that.” The hand on his chest drifts down, to his stomach, and then Jason pauses. There’s a moment of stillness, before Jason’s fingers inch lower, and the merman asks, “Can I? I don’t expect anything in return, I swear.”

He pauses too, feeling the stillness of the fingers resting _just_ above the line of his sleeping pants, low on his hips. Slowly, he admits, “No one has ever… I do not know what I will enjoy.”

His hunter freezes up, breath catching. Then, before he can question the moment, Jason is pulling back and pushing him down, pressing him onto his back and leaning over him. He lets it happen mostly out of surprise, and then he feels Jason’s scales shift to skin and his hunter is really looming over him, one thick leg pressing between his thighs.

“Gods, why did you _say_ that?” Jason says, voice sounding tight and strained and _hungry_. “You’re so damned _perfect_ , Damian, you don’t even know.” He gasps at the press of that leg between his, and then Jason is leaning down and kissing him. Hard but brief, with a rake of teeth over his bottom lip. “Gorgeous,” Jason murmurs, rocking against him. “ _Vicious_. Let me touch you, _please_. Let me be the first.”

He shivers, nods because he doesn’t quite trust his voice, and Jason gives a hungry groan and kisses him again. One hand slides down, gripping the outside of his thigh and pushing it open a bit, before Jason is shifting down. The kiss doesn’t break, but Jason’s leg pulls away from him and the hand on his thigh slips inwards instead, deliberately cupping him through the linen of his sleeping pants.

He gasps, “ _Wait_ ,” into the press of Jason’s mouth, and his hunter _instantly_ lets go, pulling away and giving him a few inches of space.

“What is it?” Jason asks, voice still low and hungry but also tightly restrained and edged with a bright kind of concern.

He reaches up, finding Jason’s neck with one hand and his hair with the other, mostly blindly. “I cannot see you,” he breathes. “I— I wish to see you for this.”

“ _Oh_ , yeah, let me— Hang on.” Jason pulls away from him, sliding off the bed and he can _just_ track the shadow of his hunter’s form in the dim lighting as Jason crosses the room. He looks away in time to not be blinded by the sudden flare of fire as Jason strikes a match and lights the candle on the desk across the room, bathing the cabin in the orange-yellow light of it.

Once his eyes have adjusted a bit he looks back over, finding Jason slipping back across the room with a predatory grace, backlit by the fire and _stunning_ in its light. In that moment, Jason looks every bit the deadly, savage, _beast_ that he is, and something buried in him wakes up and _thrills_ at the sight. He rolls as Jason approaches, getting to his knees on the bed and letting instinct guide him as he bares his teeth up at his hunter, his _suitor_.

Jason’s eyes narrow, his stride slowing into a smaller step, teeth flashing but not staying bared.

“What are you waiting for?” he demands, and his words come out a snarling challenge despite no intention of his to make them that way. Jason shifts forward, and he finds himself pushing forward to match, rising higher on his knees and then growling, “ _Kneel_.”

Jason stills, and then those blue-green, ocean-shaded eyes go dark and _hungry_. His hunter drops, knees hitting the wood with a solid thunk and satisfaction curls in his chest like a housecat after a kill. Jason’s just at the edge of the bed, and he shifts forward and then reaches out to grab Jason’s hair with one hand, pulling him a little bit closer. Desire is pushed a bit to the side as he brings his other hand forward and traces the scabbed over claw marks he put into Jason’s cheek, and then down along similarly scabbed bite wounds on his neck and shoulders. He looks down at the other marks along Jason’s chest and arms, but doesn’t reach down to feel them.

“You heal fast,” he comments, and Jason gives a shallow nod. “I’ll need to mark you more often then, to ensure that no one ever mistakes you for anything but _mine._ ”

“ _Gods_ ,” Jason mutters. “Are you sure you don’t have some mer in your ancestry? Some grandparent a hundred years back or something?”

“It is possible,” he admits. “My mother’s side of my family seeks power however it can be procured; it is not altogether impossible that at some point that power was sought through crossbreeding with beings such as you. It would have been very far back though, for me to not have been told about it.”

“That might explain a couple things.”

He pulls at Jason’s hair, shifting to bring his legs out from underneath himself and down off the bed to press at either side of the breadth of his hunter’s shoulders. He can see Jason swallow, feel him tremble a bit — restraint? — but his merman doesn’t move, doesn’t even look down from where their gazes are locked.

“Do you find it hard to believe there are humans like me?” he asks, tracing the length of those scratches again and resisting the urge to curl his fingers and claw at them till they bleed fresh.

His hunter gives a dark, rumbling growl, and then turns and nuzzles his fingers, eyes closing for a moment. “In my experience there _are_ no humans like you.”

He finds himself smirking, satisfaction lighting up his chest in a warm blaze, so he leans forward and pulls his hunter into a kiss, pressing his knees in harder against those broad shoulders. He pulls back after a moment to ask, “Why do you enjoy the idea of being my first so much?”

Jason snarls, pushes forward an inch as if chasing the broken kiss, and then shoves out a breath and sinks back. “I’m starting to think you _like_ denying me,” Jason breathes, eyes opening again. “I get to introduce you to all this. You probably can’t— I feel _satisfied_ , that I get to show you so much pleasure that you didn’t know before. It feels like a victory.”

Curious, he tilts his head and demands, “And would you want me less if I was experienced?”

Jason blinks up at him, expression sliding into confusion, disbelief. “Are you serious?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“ _No,_ ” Jason answers, sounding a little shocked. “Gods, _no_.”

His hunter surges up against him, pushing up his body and catching his mouth, both hands curling into his hair. He gasps as Jason presses him onto his back with just weight, bodies close, and he can feel the hard, hot press of his suitor’s cock against one of his hips. Jason all but devours him, leaving him breathless and gasping and half-pinned beneath the heat and weight of his hunter. Then Jason’s mouth is on his throat, grazing teeth across it and rumbling a growl into his skin. He gives a returning snarl without even thinking about it.

Jason pulls back enough to meet his eyes. “It hasn’t got anything to do with sex,” the merman murmurs. “I would want you with this same passion if you’d fucked a hundred other people first, my human. You are my _courted_ ; my satisfaction comes from being able to give you pleasure you didn’t know before, literal or not. I’d love to show you distant lands and incredible sights and wonderful food, and all of it would make me just as satisfied. Can you understand that?”

He considers it for a few moments, and then gives a slow nod. “I believe I can.”

"Good," his hunter says firmly, and then gives a curling smirk. "So let me introduce you, Damian. Just relax and let me give you a little taste of all this."

His silence is not an answer in the technical sense, but he does let his hands loosen, as well as the grip his thighs has on either side of Jason's hips. He doesn't know what he would say even if he could quite form words, and luckily Jason seems to understand that because his hunter kisses him. Softer this time, at the same time as one hand touches the center of his chest and then slides down with firm, obvious pressure. He flexes the hand he has in Jason's hair, and stays in the slow, easy meeting of their mouths, breathing through his nose just like Jason is.

That hand reaches its destination, slips beneath the cloth of his sleeping pants and curls around him with familiar, practiced ease. He gasps, and Jason gives a little rumble of sound that transfers into his mouth, vibrates along his tongue and his teeth.

His hunter pulls back an inch, just enough to break the kiss, to breathe, "Already hard for me, aren't you, little human? Hot and worked up, just for me."

He shivers, hips pushing up towards Jason's hand as it starts to stroke him. Somehow, he manages to gather his thoughts enough to gasp, "I am _hardly_ the only one."

Jason smirks, kissing the side of his jaw, his throat, then returning to his mouth. "Not a criticism, my vicious little thing. I _love_ it."

He looks up at Jason's smirk, at the expanse of his eyes, and ends up giving a soft whine at the feeling of the hand between his legs. His hand flexes in Jason's hair, the other gripping lightly at one hard shoulder as he tries to restrain himself. He's learned control from some of the best masters in the ocean; he _cannot_ be defeated by mere sensation. He _can_ control his reactions, and he can handle the heat creeping up his chest and the hum of pleasure — so _different_ now that it's not by his own hand — starting to come to life in his veins. He shifts, all but panting against Jason's mouth but keeping his hands light, his body relatively relaxed as he was told to.

"Let go," Jason murmurs, kissing along his jaw again. It takes him a few long moments to realize that Jason's not talking about his physical grip, and by then his hunter is speaking again. "Don't you hold back on me, Damian. Pull and bite and _claw_ however you want to; I can take it. Gods, I'll take anything you need me to, little human. Make me _bleed_."

He sucks in a sharp breath — never once has he been told by anyone to _stop_ controlling himself — but then turns his head towards Jason's and gives in, just in time to pull his suitor down into a harder kiss than their last brush of lips. He can feel Jason grin against his mouth, and that suddenly seems completely unacceptable so he growls as deep as he can manage and then _bites_ , sinking his teeth into Jason’s bottom lip.

Jason jerks a little bit, hissing, but then pushes harder down against him with a sound somewhere between a moan and a snarl. He tastes blood, salty and sharp almost as if it’s partially seawater, and only then lets go to return to the kiss. He presses his thighs in against Jason’s hips hard enough that it aches, rolling up into the dexterous twist of the hand around him. He stops _caring_ what might go too far.

It feels _good_ to rake his nails down Jason’s shoulder and onto his back, so he does. It feels good to wrench Jason’s head to the side so he can get his teeth into the side of Jason’s neck, so he does. It feels good that Jason’s only reaction is to cry out and roll those hips forward so the heat of him presses down against his upper thigh, with not even one involuntary twitch to stop him.

He pants against Jason’s throat, a whine building in his chest that he can’t help voicing. That’s where Jason defies him, pulling up and away from him and bracing that free hand beside his head. He almost snarls, almost demands that Jason come back _right now_ , but Jason’s only pulled back enough to watch him, a matter of a foot and little else.

He still nearly snarls, before Jason is breathing, “I want to see. Come on, Damian, let me watch you come apart.”

It’s a whine that comes out instead of a snarl, and he ends up baring his teeth at the fact that apparently that’s the only sound he can manage to make right now. In frustration, and desire, and _demand_ , he pulls his hand down from Jason’s back and takes it to his suitor’s face, giving into the desire to dig into the scratches marking that cheek and make them bleed again.

Jason hisses again, teeth baring and eyes squeezing shut, but then gives a strained groan and presses _into_ his nails. “Gods, _yes_ ,” his suitor all but moans, eyes opening but remaining lidded and dark. “ _Yes_.”

His hand contracts in Jason’s hair, the tips of his nails scratching over the merman’s scalp. He feels coiled tight and it’s a feeling that he recognizes, but never this intense. Getting off by his own hand is good, but it is a matter of experience and calculation and this is so _very_ different than that. Jason _doesn’t_ know him, doesn’t know precisely what little twists of his hand or other touch will bring him off fastest, and so he’s drawn tight like a sail underneath the wind, pulled harsher and harsher and—

He breaks, shatters, _soars_ , and he’s clutching at Jason’s hair and shoulder, arching and bucking and crying out. Jason doesn’t stop his hand, milks him through the splatter of wet heat against his stomach with a gentler but persistent touch, and he _shakes_ when it gets to be a little too much.

His mouth parts, but before he can even say the first syllable Jason’s stopped. He’s still lightly holding him, palm warm and firm against him and that’s… nice. That’s pleasant in a calmer sort of way. He gentles his own touch, sliding his hand through Jason’s hair and tracing his other fingers a little ways down Jason’s chest. It’s hard to get his eyes open, but he does.

Jason is staring down at him, fresh blood starting to wind its way down from his cheek but his eyes soft, almost _awed_. He watches for a quiet moment, before his suitor whispers, “You’re _breathtaking_ , babe. Could watch you come all night.”

That pries a flash of embarrassment from him, and he twists his head and feels the already present flush in his cheeks burn hotter. Jason gives a hungry laugh, and then pulls away a bit, shifting down his body. He looks down, but only just in time to watch Jason lean in and lick a stripe of release off his stomach. His breath catches _hard_ in his throat, and his hands curl into tight fists as Jason _groans,_ low and guttural against the skin of his waist.

 _That_ reminds him that Jason has _not_ gotten off, and is probably _achingly_ hard.

He can’t manage to get his mind together enough to form words until his stomach has been licked clean, and Jason is leaning up and licking his lips, a very _satisfied_ look on his face. Then he holds up a hand, and Jason immediately takes it. It thrills and shocks and — he can barely admit it — _awes_ him that Jason, despite all the heavy muscle and supernatural strength to him, follows the light tug of his hand as though he doesn’t even _think_ of doing anything different. His suitor just smiles, lies down next to him and loops a heavy arm over his waist, nose rubbing against his shoulder.

He can feel the hard heat of Jason’s cock against his thigh, but there’s no movement to it, no attempt to get off. He shifts, twisting his head to look at Jason and catching the flicker of blue-green eyes up to meet his. He just stares for a moment, unable to find the drive to pursue anything when he feels so… so good. Light and warm and fuzzy all at once, and _satisfied_.

Jason smiles again, even softer, and murmurs, “Gorgeous.”

He shivers, and then manages to ask, “And you?”

“I’m fine,” Jason answers, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Told you I wasn’t expecting anything out of this.”

He frowns a little bit, and then very purposefully shifts his leg to rub his thigh up against Jason. It gets him a gasp, and then a small shudder. “You do not _feel_ fine,” he points out. “You feel as though you _ache_.”

Jason’s teeth graze against his shoulder, and after a moment of squeezed closed eyes his suitor just says, “I do. You don’t have to—”

“I _know_ ,” he interrupts. He considers it; considers how it might feel to reach down and wrap his fingers around that heft. But this has already been unlike anything he’s ever experienced and he’s not positive he can add something else quite so enormous to it. Something smaller, however… Maybe that, he can.

“Damian?” Jason murmurs with just a slight edge of concern, peering up at him. “Are you alright?”

Before he can lose the nerve, he orders, “Bring yourself to release.” Jason’s eyes widen, and he refuses to let the merman say one more worried or placating thing so he rolls, sliding his thigh against that heat and _shoving_ Jason down onto his back. “You have seen my pleasure,” he points out. “Show me yours. _Now_.”

Jason arches just a little bit, but doesn’t fight the press of his hand to one shoulder. Instead that mouth curls into a snarl but Jason is _easing_ at the same time, head tilting back and baring his throat, hips rising an inch as if _offering_ both things to him. He swallows, and doesn’t even try to resist the instinct to lean in and cup the back of Jason’s neck with his other hand, pulling it up into a little more of an arch and then carefully setting his teeth to it. He bites down over Jason’s windpipe, not hard enough to draw blood or even really hurt but enough to _feel_.

He’s entirely caught off guard by the quiet, desperate _keen_ that comes from his suitor, and the way that one of Jason’s hands curls into his hair before he begs, “Please. _Please_.”

Heat flares in his gut, and he _almost_ just bites down. Luckily he feels the relative fragility of Jason’s windpipe first, and forces himself to let go, to rise up. He feels shaky and _powerful_ at the same time, with this deadly, capable, _beast_ beneath him. _Vulnerable_ , bared, and _entirely_ at his command _._

“Will it mean anything I should know?” he asks, fighting to keep his voice steady. He still has enough presence of mind to remember that a _lot_ of the merman traditions and rites seem to revolve around biting.

“No,” Jason says, a clearly pleading note to his voice. “You’re— You’re human; it won’t seal anything, won’t do anything, you _can’t_ claim me.” The hand in his hair tightens, eases again, and then Jason begs, “ _Please_ , just—”

Jason seems lost for the words to describe what he’s asking for, but… he _thinks_ he understands it. Enough, at least.

“Work yourself to your pleasure,” he demands. “Do what I’ve asked. When you are done, _then_ I will give you what you want, my suitor.”

Jason shudders, and then the hand in his hair lets go, and he shifts to watch it lower. It wraps around the length of Jason’s cock, gripping tight for a moment and then stroking. Practiced, with a twist at the end and the sweep of a thumb beneath the head. His mouth goes a bit dry at the sight, and he stares for several long moments before he can pull his gaze away and back to Jason’s face.

Jason’s head is lowered, neck eased out of its arch, and he reacts without thinking about it.

He reaches down with his free hand and grabs Jason’s throat, pushing his chin up and back to bare that length of skin again. Jason chokes a tiny bit, eyes flicking open and over to meet his, but there’s no struggle and while Jason’s hand stutters for a moment, it doesn’t completely stop.

“Keep this bared to me,” he demands, tightening his grip on both the front and back of his suitor’s neck and dragging it into a slightly higher arch. “Keep it _offered_.”

Jason shakes a little harder, and then breathes, “As you wish, my human,” past the pressure of his fingers.

He keeps his grip for another moment before letting go, trailing his fingers down the arch of Jason’s throat. His suitor gives a breathless groan, and he lowers his gaze back down the planes of Jason’s chest. He watches that hand pull almost roughly, studies the precise movement of it and commits it to memory. For future reference.

He lets his hand slip farther down, exploring Jason’s chest and lingering on the half-healed wounds he’s already left just long enough to dig his fingers into them a bit. Jason’s breathing hard, but it catches every time he digs a nail into the curve of scratches or points of a bite mark. He lets his hand drop lower, and looks up to meet the slightly questioning gaze of his suitor as he lets his fingers come to a stop on Jason’s thigh. He pauses for a moment, and then blindly slides his fingers down onto the softer, more sensitive skin on the inside of that thigh and curls his nails in.

Jason sucks in a sharp breath then moans at just the threat, free hand curling hard into the sheets beneath them. Those blue-green eyes flicker, head falling back a little further and arching his throat _more_ ; it makes his own breath catch. Jason is twisting, rocking up into his own hand. It’s _enticing_ , and he gets one vivid flash of what it might be like to be on top of the merman, to be the thing that his hunter is rocking into. _Heat_ suffuses him, and he barely bites back the small whine that wants to claw its way out of his throat. It doesn’t help that in the next moment Jason’s thighs fall a little farther apart, as if making room for a body. For him.

He accepts the idea of the invitation, and rakes his nails down the inside of Jason’s thigh as far as he can reach without moving. Not quite hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave angry red lines behind. Jason jerks, arching and gasping, and then suddenly his suitor is tensing, whole body going perfectly still for a half moment. He watches with wide eyes as it falls into hard shudders and Jason groans, head twisting towards him, hand still moving but obviously more gentle as his cock twitches and paints stripes of release along the muscles of his stomach.

Jason’s expression falls into something relaxed, something blissful, and he barely breathes as he watches all remaining tension vanish to leave Jason a lax, pliable heap.

He stares for a few moments, and then recalls his own promise.

He pulls his hand away from Jason’s thigh, shifting upwards and then hooking a hand underneath Jason’s shoulder so he can push his suitor up and partially over onto his chest. Jason makes a breathless, questioning noise, but he doesn’t respond. He just curls one hand into Jason’s hair, pressing his head down, and then leans into his suitor and sinks his teeth into the back of Jason’s neck, on either side of his spine.

Jason makes a shocked sound, head twisting against his grip for a moment before he just _trembles_. “Fuck,” his suitor breathes, giving into his hold and the grip of his teeth as he bites down harder, feels skin split. “ _Fuck_ , Damian, _yes_.”

He waits until Jason’s once again little more than a limp, trembling heap, and then finally lets go. Jason gives a quiet, muffled sound that he can’t decipher, before he pulls Jason over onto his back again. Jason blindly reaches for him, and he lets his suitor find his hair and wrap an arm around his back and pull him close. He finds his forehead pressed to Jason’s, lips only a fraction apart but Jason doesn’t move to close that distance. Just _holds_ him.

It’s… pleasant.

He closes his eyes, relaxing into the grip and giving a satisfied hum of sound as he pushes his body closer to Jason’s. He still feels slightly fuzzy, still feels the satisfaction in his bones, and he supposes he can allow himself to luxuriate in that feeling a few moments longer. Just a few.

“Perfect,” Jason murmurs, voice coming out rough and a little hazy. “ _Perfect_.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! XD Little bit of backstory this time, plus some adorableness. I actually really like this chapter. Enjoy!

It takes him what feels like a long time to come back out of the haze of pleasure and satisfaction his human has left him in. Every breath he takes smells of Damian, of blood, of the musk of sex and sweat. Damian stays in his arms, and having his courted held to him, with fresh wounds stinging and old ones aching, feels so close to perfect. The only thing that could make it better would be if Damian were truly his mate, but the time for that hasn’t come yet.

He refuses to push. Damian will set the pace, and he’ll stick to it and take only what he’s allowed until he’s proven that he’s a responsible partner. Pushing has only ever lost him the things he cares about.

Eventually Damian moves again, shifting from his hold, and he eases his grip to let his human slip away, opening his eyes to watch. Damian is… stunning. Tanned, slightly dark skin broken only by the lines of occasional scars, smooth and contrasting beautifully with the black hair. Long, lean, built of muscle and with the callouses to prove that it’s all earned and worked for. The way skin shifts and pulls as Damian slides up to sitting, back arching and head falling back in a stretch, makes want stir low in his gut again. He nudges it away, lying still and simply enjoying the sight his human makes.

Damian turns slightly once he's come out of the stretch, jade eyes looking down at him, flicking along his form and then catching on his eyes. He gives a small smile, and Damian scoffs and stands. "What are you doing?"

"Admiring you," he answers simply, making no effort to hide how his gaze lowers to the curves of Damian's ass.

Damian looks surprised for a moment, and then flicks his eyes heavenwards and stalks across the room to one of the chests there. "Do not be ridiculous. You have seen all you need to, have you not?" There's something slightly defensive to the words, and the tone prompts him to push himself up and slide off the bed.

He pads across the room so he can catch Damian as his human stands from collecting what look like folded clothes. He wraps a gentle arm around that smaller chest, lowering his head to press an equally soft kiss to the side of Damian's throat. "Just because I've seen it already doesn't mean I don't like looking at it," he murmurs. "Do you get tired of looking at beautiful things?"

Damian pauses, and then, in a huff, admits, "Rarely. Let go."

He does, but keeps his head bowed next to his human's shoulder, lips brushing the soft — fragile, _so_ fragile beneath his teeth and nails — skin as he takes in a slow, deep breath. "I know your scent too," he points out, "but I still like it. I think I could just watch you all day."

"You would not be particularly useful to me if that was all you did," Damian says, but the tone's slipped away from that defensiveness, back to the more familiar sarcasm and slight bite. He steals another faint taste of the skin beneath his mouth, and then draws back so Damian can actually get dressed. "You would have to go back to the water at some point, would you not?"

"Yes. Once a day, roughly. I can stay out of it longer but I get…” He considers his words, as Damian pulls a loose white linen shirt on to complement the tighter, tougher black pants. "Too dry. I get dehydrated faster than a human; it doesn't take that long for it to be uncomfortable. Painful, after that. I try not to let it go past a day."

Damian grabs a pair of boots, tugs them on and bends to fix the way the pants are bunching above them. Then his human turns to him, and he stands still, waiting for approval to step forward, or rejection to move away. Instead of either, Damian asks, "I have a request."

His heart flutters, instinct rising at a chance to _prove_ himself to his courted, and he immediately says, "Name it."

There's a brief pause. Then, "Would you come up with me? Stand by my side?"

It's his turn to pause, to think about the fact that this ship is full of other humans, that he is decidedly _other_ if anyone looks too closely, which they will. Most importantly, that, "There's no explanation for me being on the ship."

"No," Damian agrees. "There's not."

He chews over that admission for a moment, before he rephrases Damian's request as, "You want me next to you as a symbol of power. A threat. You want them to know what I am because it makes you look dangerous to have me under control." It's… Willingly exposing himself to humans is something he's never done before. At least, not to more than one at a time. Groups of humans are so much more dangerous than single hunters, even more so when they're trained to work together, trained to _hunt_.

"It is a risk on your part, I am aware." He holds Damian's gaze, as his human says, "I would not let them harm you."

The snort is automatic. "Please; I could rip this ship apart if I wanted to."

From the water. While on the ship itself… trickier. He's not as good on legs as he is in his natural form; lacking one of his best weapons and unable to maneuver as easily as he can underwater. He has teeth and claws but those only work so well against blades, and humans are painfully inventive most of the time in coming up with ways to disable him. He's difficult to trap, but it's not impossible. He's learned that the hard way.

"Jason." He snaps back to paying attention. "I do not require this. You may say no, and I will not end things between us. I am aware that it is a selfish request, and that it puts you in danger, and though I would like to have you by my side I will understand if you refuse. But know that if you do agree, I would slaughter anyone on this ship that dared to try and lay a hand on you." Damian's gaze flicks to the side for a moment, a faint flush warming his cheeks. "You are irreplaceable; the rest of my crew are not."

He feels his mouth curling in a small grin, and takes a step forward. Despite the way that Damian's gaze snaps back to him, his human doesn't back away or show any signs of actually being wary. "You saying that because I'm a mer, or because you like me?" he asks, teasing even as he reaches forward and slides a careful hand around Damian's waist.

Damian scoffs, head tilting back a little bit to meet his gaze more evenly. "Can it not be both?"

He shifts closer instead of pulling Damian forward, leaning in and catching Damian's mouth in a kiss. He lets his hand spread out and press flat to the small of Damian's back, and gives a pleased rumble of sound when he feels one of Damian's hands tunnel through his hair, and the other dig nails into his shoulder. Desire thrums lazily through him, but he eases it away and simply enjoys the press of his human's mouth, letting it be soft, letting it be _easy_.

Sleeping next to his human, and being allowed to please him, have calmed him in a way he hasn't felt since he was relaxing in that pool. The urge to chase, to hunt, to _claim_ , has been washed away beneath the scent of his courted. Right now he's relaxed; he would give whatever Damian wanted, of course, but he doesn't have much desire to actually start anything. Besides, his human wouldn't appreciate it. Humans and the time constraints they put on work.

He lets their lips part just as slowly as he joined them, and enjoys several calm, shared breaths in the fraction between their mouths before he murmurs, "I'll go. Whatever you want, my courted."

“You are sure?” his human asks, voice equally quiet.

He raises his free hand, sliding his fingertips across Damian’s cheek. "I'm sure."

Damian takes in a shallow breath at his touch, and he can feel the faint tremble, hear the way his human swallows. Not fear; it doesn't sound or smell like fear. "You are… softer," Damian breathes. "Gentler than you have been. Why?"

"Do you mind?"

Damian's hand tugs at his hair, and then his human gives a quiet growl and points out, "That was a question, not an answer. Mine first."

He lets his mouth curl into a small smirk, rubbing his hand across Damian's low back as he leans down a bit, enough that he can rub his nose along Damian's throat as he obeys. "You agreed to be my courted, and you let me sleep beside you, let me guard you, let me give you pleasure _and_ have my own which is, honestly, way more than I was expecting. I don't feel the instinct to impress you as strongly as I did before. I'm… calmer, now."

Damian's head tilts, and he feels his human's nose brush his throat in turn, feels the hand on his shoulder gentle until it's just a solid grip; no nails. "No, I do not mind. It is… pleasant. Is it only about what I've allowed you to do? Do my allowances mean so much?"

"Yes," he answers easily, and then gives a soft laugh. "I know you haven't felt this way but the weeks I hunted you are seen by my kind as a sort of… foreplay? We don't hunt each other for sport, or as meals; when one mer tracks another it always ends in a fight, and usually a claim. Some turn and fight immediately, others gamble that they can outrun their pursuer." He shivers, faintly. "I spent _weeks_ with the taste of your blood in the back of my throat, hunting you so that I could make you mine. By the time the fight came I was pretty wound up, and fights always get my blood rushing anyway, so…”

"You were _aroused_ ," Damian finishes, sounding somewhere between amused and proud. He hums agreement, and Damian asks, "If I had denied you release, would you still be as intense as you were last night?"

"Sort of." He laughs again, into Damian's throat. "Last night, you did basically everything you possibly could have to wind me up. The fight, the biting, the demands… This morning, you let me work out most of it."

Damian shifts back, gently pulling from his grasp and stepping away. "You said you did not expect me to allow that; why not?"

His human is digging into another chest — more clothes, he's fairly sure — and he just watches for a moment before answering. "In courtships, one of the most common ways a courted will test a suitor is by denying them. Days, or weeks. It's a way to test if the suitor is willing to be patient, restrain themselves, and give without demanding anything in return. Sometimes it's one-sided pleasure, or sometimes a courted will deny all touch. If you can push someone to desperation, you learn what they do when they reach it. Some beg, some give up, some try and force it, some restrain themselves… My people see it as an important thing to know."

Damian pulls out a set of looser clothing, black, larger than anything his human is wearing. "These should do until clothes can be acquired for you," is the explanation, as they're pressed into his hands. "You were expecting me to deny you any gratification. Your expectation was that I would behave as I did last night; doing what I wished to you, without allowing you to touch me in return."

"Or something." He tugs on the clothes. The shirt's a bit tight and the pants are a little short, but both are decent enough fits to not _look_ like they're totally wrong for him. "My uh, my last courted; his favorite game was to work me up and then deny me any actual release. It was… frustrating, but he enjoyed it so I endured it."

Damian reaches out, trailing fingers across his throat, then down over his collarbone where the linen of the shirt gaps open. "Tell me a bit about him?"

He hesitates — the thought of it still stings, even after all the years — but then dips his head. "He was… powerful. Strong. Black hair, impossible blue eyes, and the most incredible blue scales, like _sapphires_. His name was Richard, but he went by Dick; picked it up from humans before I ever met him. He was… He was better than me. A little smaller but faster than I was, more agile, and more experienced." A snort works its way out of his throat, and he gives a crooked grin. "The first time we met I tried to claim him; didn't exactly turn out well for me."

Damian looks _fascinated_. "What happened?"

He pulls the shirt up his side, far enough that he can turn and show Damian the lower left part of his back, and point out the slightly faded but still ragged lines of four scars clawed into it from his side to his spine. "He stunned me, gave me this, and then dragged me out of his territory and told me not to come back." Damian's fingers trace the scars. "I did, obviously. I left gifts just inside his territory for weeks, until I'd healed. Then I went back and asked to court him."

"I thought that the aggressor would be the suitor," Damian murmurs, and he gives a small shrug.

"Sometimes. But it's not uncommon for a weaker mer to ask to court a stronger one, to prove they're good enough to keep up. I never thought I could beat him, but I wanted to prove that I could give him a challenge." Damian's fingers pull away from the scar, and he lets the shirt drop back down, turns back to his human. "Even for our kind, he was a beauty, and that sort of beauty paired with actual _strength_ is… He'd probably been fighting off other mer for years; I have no idea why he ever said yes to me."

Damian frowns, and then raises a hand to slide along his jaw, to cup his cheek. "You are more than pleasant to look at yourself, Jason. Even if you were not his equal in skill, you are still a creature of unique deadliness."

He gives a smirk, tilting his head into Damian's palm. "I wasn't then. I didn't have a name, or a territory, and I wasn't the Red Death, I was just Jason. I was young, and he was _fathoms_ above my level. He taught me most of what I know about fighting, hunting, courting… Half the time I wasn't sure if I was courting him or he was courting me."

"But it didn't work."

He winces, smirk fading, and then admits, "No. There was a fight, I lost control, and I made it too serious. He beat me, but it… it cost us both. He rejected my courtship, told me to leave, and I did." Another frown from his human, a parted mouth, and he quickly adds, "It was my fault; I lost control of my instincts."

Damian's thumb strokes over his cheek, and then his human leans up, pulls him down and kisses him. He sinks into it gladly, and Damian presses closer, grips his waist with his free hand and slides an easy tongue into his mouth as if to taste him. It's shorter then he wants it to be, but then his human is guiding his head down. He allows himself to be guided, to have his lips pressed to Damian's throat and his body pulled close, every inch of them lining together.

"I… enjoy, having you restrain yourself," Damian murmurs into his ear. "Knowing that you do so because it is what I want _thrills_ me. You are a deadly, powerful, _savage_ , and the thought of that much power under my control is… _intoxicating_." He closes his eyes in pleasure, in _relief_ , as Damian tightens the grip on his waist and slides the hand on his cheek back into his hair. "That is the only reason I've denied you so far, my hunter. Perhaps it makes me... human, but I have no desire to push you to desperation. I would see you satisfied." A gentle kiss against his throat, and then Damian commands, "Mark me, Jason. You have more than earned one."

It's his turn to pause, and then to ask, "Are you sure?"

"I am positive."

He inhales slowly, letting himself feel the joy blooming in his chest, the gratitude. He gently pulls away from Damian's hold, sinking to his knees and giving a smile in response to the slight confusion in Damian's expression. He keeps his touch gentle as he pushes Damian's shirt up, hooks the pants down a couple inches, and then leans in. Damian gives a small gasp as he sucks the skin just above the hollow of Damian's hip between his teeth, making sure that the creation of the bruise is a soft ache, rather than the sharp fire of a bite. He enjoys that, but humans usually don't, so he's learned how to mark his humans without hurting them.

A hand finds his hair, gripping tight, but when he glances up Damian's eyes are slightly lidded, mouth parted, a small flush on his cheeks.

He only pulls back once he's satisfied that he's made a mark that will stay, and when he looks at it he can see the redness of blood beneath the skin, the slight darkening to it. He presses a soft kiss to the skin, pulls Damian's clothing back into place, and then gets back to his feet. Damian's hand stays in his hair, pulls him into an immediate kiss when he's risen again, one that's hungrier, one that has Damian breathing a little harder against his mouth.

"I thought…”

The words trail off, but he catches the meaning and gives a small smirk. "I don't need the world to know you're mine, Damian. Besides…” He leans a little closer, grazes his teeth over the shell of Damian's ear and then whispers, "Think how it looks that you're untouched. A beast like me, brought low by you and without a _scratch?_ You wanted to look dangerous, didn't you, my little human?"

Damian's breath catches, and then he's firmly pushed away with a hard hand at his chest. There's a flash of disappointment, of worry, before he catches sight of how _hungry_ Damian looks. Those jade eyes close, and he watches as his human takes several deep breaths, fingers curling at his sides. "I will be late if I continue touching you," Damian breathes, "and I _cannot_ be late." His human straightens, slides behind steel but with _fire_ brimming in his gaze, and meets his eyes. "Are you prepared to go up, suitor?"

He gives a small grin. "Whenever you are, Captain."

He waits as Damian collects a coat from deeper within the chest, pulls it on and then adds a belt, a sword, a gun. All the trappings of a higher-ranked officer, which makes him think that it was _always_ Damian's intention to somehow gain control of this ship. That, or his parents made sure he had the finery to suit whatever position he gained. He wouldn't put that past either of them. Then Damian extinguishes the lantern, leaving only the faint light coming in through the window. It's enough for him, but he doubts it's enough for Damian to see more than slightly-colored shadows. Regardless, Damian reaches out and finds his arm, pulling him close and leaning into his side.

For a moment there's only silence, and he wraps one arm around Damian's waist then murmurs, "Whatever you want from me, ask, and know that I won't interfere unless you do. I'm yours to command, my courted."

Damian exhales against his shoulder, and then nods and pulls away. "They can hardly be any more dangerous than you, and I have handled you more than adequately."

He smirks, but silently follows his human to the door, and then out into the ship itself. Wooden walls soaked with the sea; it's been a long time since he's actually been inside a ship. He's destroyed them, yanked sailors from the decks and snatched them from the wreckage, but he hasn't actually walked the depths of one for a very long time. So many humans in such a confined space — and without immediate access to the ocean — isn't the safest thing for him, not if they know what he is.

But Damian is dangerous in his own right, and somehow he finds it easy to believe that the two of them can handle any of the crew who refuse to accept the new order of things. He's _more_ than looking forward to watching his little human take control.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Short note this time, gotta run to work, but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> [You can find my Tumblr here!](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)

Damian steadies himself as he walks through the halls of his ship, breathing carefully, evenly, as he tamps down any doubt. Young he may be, but he is experienced and his blood is of great lines on both sides. This ship is _his_ , and he will have the obedience of the men on it, whatever that takes. Though he doubts that he will need much more than his own threat, considering the creature at his back. Who would dare to fight him, knowing that he has a beast such as Jason under his command?

The thought thrills him once again, makes his breath quicken for a moment. He has a _merman_. Jason is his to command, his to take, his to possess. A beast, savage and deadly and vicious, and yet tamed beneath his touch. _Only_ his. (The bruised spot above Damian's hip aches slightly, and he breathes out to stifle the flame of desire that feeling lights in his belly.)

He doesn't allow himself to pause before the stairs to the deck, though there is a part of him that wishes to. The weak sunlight of early dawn shines down, and Damian ascends into it, letting his faith in the wood beneath his boots keep his head high. He can hear Jason's softer, bare-footed footsteps behind him, and takes equal comfort in that as he looks around the deck of his ship. Immediately, his senses tell him there is something wrong, but it takes him a couple moments longer to pinpoint exactly what it is.

It's… quiet. Far more quiet than it should be, with dawn breaking and a ship still fresh from battle to see to. The crew that is here is short at least a half dozen men of the number they should be, and even the ones that are here are quiet, halting in their work. Gathered, already watching him as though they were waiting to see his reaction to the missing men. Damian holds back that reaction, letting nothing more show than a small tightening of his jaw, as he looks for the figure of his first mate. Answers; _then_ he will seek whatever vengeance he must.

It is gratifying to see the glances aimed past him, and the wary fear in some of his crew's eyes as they look at Jason. They can't possibly know what he is, not yet, but he is an unexplained presence aboard the ship. Perhaps some have their suspicions, and perhaps Jason's face was seen by some of those he saved from death in the battle and recalled enough to make them afraid, but none of them yet _know_. Damian looks forward to that moment; he wants to know exactly what sort of reaction he'll get when Jason's loyalty is revealed.

The first mate is waiting not far away, leaning against the bulwark and not even pretending to be working. Damian approaches, glancing about so he can catalog the names and faces of the crewman who remain; he'll want to know that later.

"How many?" he demands, once he's in range. He doesn't bother lowering his voice; this is something the whole crew will need to watch. If he is to prove power, it must be witnessed.

"Nine deserted. They took a lifeboat and some of the supplies and left, not more than an hour ago."

Damian doesn't bother asking why he wasn't informed either; those that stayed will want to see how he handles it, before true judgment is passed on him. This is, after all, a ship under the banner of his mother's forces. He doubts they would dare to kill someone with his name, but he wouldn't put it past them to maroon him if his leadership proves inadequate. This time, he can allow that inaction. Just this time.

"And did they give a reason for this treason?" he asks, sliding his fingers across the roughened wood of the rail and letting his gaze follow the path of them. It's difficult to keep the anger inside, but he forces himself to keep hold of the coldness that his mother drilled into him. Raging beasts cannot be trusted to lead; stay in control until those that deserve your fury are before you, and _then_ strike out.

The first mate shifts, and a glance up betrays the way that he's looking over Damian's shoulder with visible unease. The answer is halting, but Damian makes himself wait until the unnerved man can manage, "They say you summoned the mer that was there in our last battle. They say you had it kill our captain so you could claim his position."

Damian lets his mouth curl into a sharp smile. "An accusation of what, dark magic? Is that all?" His first mate jerks a bit, and Damian clicks his tongue before he turns his head towards his shoulder. "Jason."

He can hear Jason move, and looks up as he steps forward and up to his side. It puts Jason's back towards a good handful of the crew, but if Jason is nervous he doesn't show it. Those sea-colored eyes study the first mate for a moment before returning to Damian, waiting on his word with steady patience. Damian has to pause for a brief moment to admire the scratches still visible across Jason's cheek, and the marks peeking up from beneath the black shirt. _His_ marks.

"Can you track them?" he asks, when his gaze returns to meet Jason's.

Jason's mouth curls into a grin, and there's a rough laugh that goes with it. "A single lifeboat, packed with nine people, that left an hour ago? Yeah, I can track them."

Damian can’t quite help the small curl of his lips in response. “Go. Bring them back to me.”

The first mate backpedals a couple sudden steps as Jason pushes forward between them, stripping off the borrowed shirt and letting it drop to the deck. “Alive or dead?” Jason asks, as he climbs up onto the bulwark, one hand wrapping around a rope to keep him balanced.

“Alive, for now.”

The pants are kicked off as well, and Jason gives him a rough grin and then leaps from the rail. Damian’s breath catches as, midair, those long legs shift to dark red scales and extend into the long, deadly tail of his mer’s true form. He hits the water with barely a splash, vanishing beneath the waves with only the last flick of a red fin to mark the spot. Damian watches for a few moments, but there’s no further sign of him.

When he looks up, the first mate is staring at him, wide-eyed. He raises an eyebrow, tilting his chin up a bit as he states, “I did not summon him. His appearance in that battle was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you, and no, I did not ask him to kill our previous captain. If I had, we would never have retrieved the body. Nevertheless, he is mine now, and he will do as I say. Does that answer your questions?”

The first mate gives a tight nod, and then a still audibly unnerved, “How?”

Damian allows himself to give a sharper smile. “I am an al Ghul; we have a way with beasts.” When the first mate just watches him, eyes still wide, Damian flicks a dismissive hand and orders, “Drop the anchor and bind the sails. We’ll wait here till he returns with the traitors.”

“Just… wait?”

“We have a ship to repair, don’t we?” he points out, as he lets his hand slip off the bulwark. “There will be plenty to do; let’s get to work.”

* * *

The lookout is the first to see Jason's return, as he should be. A call goes up, and Damian straightens away from the charts he's going over with his first mate, heading back out onto the main deck. The sun immediately blazes across the back of his neck, but he ignores it with the ease of practice and leads the way to the rail, following the gesture of the lookout to where the boat must be coming in. Jumping up on the bulwark is easy, as is wrapping his hand around the rope to keep himself stable against the roll of the waves beneath them.

It's only a few moments later that he spots the boat heading their way, moving faster than it should be considering that none of the people huddled within it seem to be rowing. Damian doesn't allow himself to smile, even as satisfaction warms his chest, nor does he allow himself to look back and see the reaction of the rest of his crew. The loyal ones. He'll know their thoughts soon enough, and judging their reaction now isn't useful, considering they'll most likely have a different one once he's passed judgment on the traitors.

(His heart, and the darkness he has there, demands that he order Jason to tear off their heads as a gift. The less reactive parts tell him to show mercy instead, of a kind. Their fears are not unfounded, and they were right in some ways; he does have a demon under his control now, and sailors are superstitious people.)

Damian waits as the boat is towed up to the ship, beneath where he's standing. He catches only flashes of red scales and paler skin, but the sheer _terror_ on the faces of some of the nine now beneath him tells him plainly enough that Jason performed excellently. They look up to him then, as the boat slows to a stop just a few feet away from the hull of his ship. Within leaping distance, if any of them are foolish enough to try boarding without his express permission after this disloyalty.

None are, which is gratifying.

Jason surfaces then, one hand lifting to grab the side of the ship where none of them dare, his head tilting up to look up at Damian with a grin full of needle-sharp teeth. Damian gives a nod back, before he turns his attention to the traitors awaiting his judgment. (Half now stare at Jason, but there are a few who seem to realize their fates now rest in Damian's hands, not the mer's, and those have continued to stare up at him.)

"Which one of you came up with this treason?" Damian calls down, keeping his voice hard and cold, and his expression to match.

There's a moment of terrified silence, before one of the men says, " _Him_ ," with a sharp gesture at another.

The accused man gives an angry shout, then arguing starts as others join in, clearly turning on him. Damian watches for a moment, then looks down to Jason, and gives a sharp jerk of his chin towards the boat. Jason grins a little wider, and drops down into the water. One man notices, but his panicked exclamation gets lost among the rest of the noise, and no one notices until Jason breaches the water on the other side of the boat. The man reels back, into his fellow crew, but Jason is already reaching over the edge of the boat and yanking him into the water.

Damian now knows, without a doubt, that there's no resisting a merman's strength.

There's one sharp burst of a scream before the man is pulled beneath the waves, and Damian can't quite control the way that his mouth curls into a faint smirk when the water blossoms red a moment later. Jason doesn't immediately reappear, and Damian turns his attention to the eight other men in the boat.

"The rest of you!" He doesn't get full attention, but he isn't expecting it. He gets enough to continue. "If you can manage to have some shred of honor, and work aboard my ship until then, you may leave as you should have to begin with; when we reach our next port. If you cannot, then you will join your _leader_. My beast could always use a larger meal."

 _Now_ everyone is paying attention. Even Jason's emerged, floating in the middle of that smear of red and watching him with what he's pretty sure is delight.

Damian quirks a finger at Jason, summoning him closer as he raises his voice a little more. "Come aboard if you can put aside your thoughts of treason; he won't harm you."

Jason seems to understand what he wants, and comes to grasp at the side of the ship again to stare down the men aboard the boat, giving them an obstacle to pass to reach their salvation. One that stalls them for a few moments, before the first — too afraid of death to be halted by fear of the threat, apparently — moves forward and reaches across the gap. Jason shows teeth, still bloody from whatever bite he took out of their 'friend,' but it only makes the man hesitate a moment in clambering up onto the side of the ship.

Another follows him, and Damian watches as they follow suit one by one, until only two are left in the small boat. One cowering at the back, and the other staring up at him with an expression torn between anger and fear.

That one slowly stands, clearly gathering his courage, before shouting up at him, "You're a demon! I won't serve under you!" His voice shakes, cracks, but the words are clear enough to be damning.

Damian clicks his tongue, holding back a smile. "My grandfather is the demon, but I appreciate the comparison. Jason, they've made their choice; get them off my boat."

"No!" the scared one nearly screams, as Jason lets go of the ship and vanishes beneath the water. "Please! I'll serve you! I'll—”

Jason emerges from the water, yanks him over the side of the boat, and he's silenced. The last man spins around in time to see the second foot slip under the waves, and jerks back a step. Logic seems to take over a moment later, and the man shifts to the very center of the boat, giving himself a bit of room around the edges that Jason will have to reach over to get a hold of him. It's half-decent, as plans go. Jason surfaces briefly, with no sign of the man he just drug down into the water, and then dives back under.

Barely a moment later the boat rocks, violently, and the braced man falls over with a hard grunt. His side hits the edge of the boat, and before he can do more than yelp in pain and surprise Jason is there, spiraling up beneath the upper half of him hanging out over the water and sinking claws into his shoulder to drag him _down_.

Damian turns away, jumping down from the rail and facing the mostly gathered crew. None of them are even pretending to work anymore; that's fine.

He focuses on the ones that tried to leave, somewhat huddled in their own little group, and takes a few moments to just survey them before he speaks. When one winces under the weight of his gaze, he says, "Try anything again, and I will kill you myself. Consider that your only warning." He pauses a moment, looking over the rest of the crew. Then orders, "Get that lifeboat back on my ship; the sooner it's stowed away, the sooner we can begin to move again. Get to work!"

It's not quite a rush to movement, but his first mate takes control and starts issuing orders, and Damian moves back to the rail. He looks down over it, watching the disturbance of the waters, and the trails of blood mixing with it near the surface, until it parts to reveal the flick of Jason's tail. Then, a few moments later, Jason himself slips out of the water, arms hooking over the edge of the lifeboat. It lists slightly, but has too much weight to truly tip over.

Jason looks up, focusing unerringly on where Damian is standing before the rail, and grinning up at him as those mer teeth melt down into human ones. Jason sets to cleaning bloody fingers off a moment later, sucking them between his lips one by one, keeping eye contact with him. Waiting for his command, Damian fully realizes, a moment later. That sets desire flaring in his gut again, and he tamps it down enough to swallow and then crook a finger, summoning Jason to him and getting a prompt response.

Jason drops down, slipping beneath the boat and coming up on the other side to climb the side of the ship, and Damian realizes suddenly that Jason will be _very_ nude when he reaches the top. Not that he thinks Jason cares, but he has _no_ desire to share. Jason will _not_ be walking around naked where anyone can admire him; that sight is his alone.

He finds the discarded set of clothing left by the opposite bulwark, and carries it over in time to hand it to Jason as he clambers over the side of the ship. Damian watches him dress again, trying not to be obvious about how he’s blocking as much sight of Jason with his body as he can. He refuses to look back to judge the reaction of the crew, so he’s not positive how successful he is, but Jason only takes about a half dozen seconds to get back into the clothing and be hidden once more.

“Pleased?” Jason asks, shifting a little closer and looking down at him, gaze back to that poised intensity.

“Very,” Damian grants, resisting reaching out to trace the curve of Jason’s jaw as that deadly mouth curls into a small, crooked grin. “You can’t have eaten everything of them that quickly.”

“I ate enough. A full-sized human can be as much as three meals, depending on how big they are."

Jason's gaze dips, lowering to his lips, and Damian finds himself asking, "What is it?"

Jason smiles a little wider, head dipping to lower closer to Damian's level, watching him intently. "I'm wondering what you'd think of me touching you in front of them, because I really want to kiss you."

Damian blinks, taken slightly off guard by the frankness of it. Jason stays steady though, and Damian has to stop and think about that idea. Of letting Jason kiss him in front of this crew, or touch him. He _wants_ to, he discovers, after a moment. The thought of allowing Jason to kiss him, to touch him, to lay claim to him in front of all the rest of them, is one that isn't at all unpleasant. To have Jason be so blatantly loyal to him, at _his_ command… (The thought that he could curl his fingers in Jason's hair and bring him to his _knees_ lingers temptingly at the front of his mind.)

Damian takes a breath. "Not now," he says, forcing the reluctance out of his tone. "Better not to test the limits of their fear. A true mutiny would be more trouble than this simple abandonment."

Jason's head dips in acceptance. "As you wish. Is there anything else you want me to do?"

"Watch," he commands, "listen, and learn. I doubt my current first mate will stay past our next port, and I would like to replace him with you when we move on. So observe the crew, and learn the skills required on my ship, so I may make better use of you." Jason head dips again, and Damian pauses for a moment before he adds, lower, "Later, when we are alone again, perhaps I will allow you to worship me as you desire to. Assuming you can continue to impress me until then."

The look that Jason gives him is dark, hungry, but apart from that stare his suitor makes no move to touch him. "Anything you want, my human," Jason promises, voice gone low and husky to match his gaze. "All you ever have to do is name it."

The fight to stop himself from reaching out to touch Jason is harder, this time, but Damian forces himself to remain still regardless. He will not undermine his own decisions. "I know. Learn my ship, suitor. Then we'll see what you've earned."

Jason grins.

* * *

Sailing to the nearest port goes well enough. Most of the crew don’t warm to Jason, but Damian doesn’t expect them to. There are a few that ease into his presence, perhaps feeling safe knowing that Jason won’t strike at them unless ordered to (and as long as they work as they should, there’s no reason for Damian to order it). Those ones, Damian considers keeping if they wish to stay. The traitors, and the ones too frightened of Jason to stop themselves keeping a constant watch when he’s around, Damian writes off as a loss.

Discreetly, he uses Jason to figure out the difference. After all, he’s supposed to be watching how the crew works, isn’t he? Surely that involves following different crew members to watch their routines, and if it helps Damian pinpoint which ones can’t focus with a beast at their heels, well, that’s just a useful side effect.

When they reach the port, and he gives the choice for all of them to either stay or leave, he’s left with a skeleton crew. As expected, his first mate deserts, as do the traitors and a good two thirds of his crew on top of it.

That’s fine; it fits in with his plans.

Jason takes up the position of first mate with no complaint from the rest, and Damian charts a course to one of the ports unequivocally controlled by his family. There, he can pick up crew with more of a tolerance for serving beside supernatural beasts, to replace the ones he needs. Then, it will be a simple matter of gaining enough of a fortune to impress his mother when he returns to her with his success.

The ship is expected, but control of a single, moderate ship will not be nearly enough to prove himself to his family. Jason may be, but he has no intention of offering Jason up to them, so that leaves him bereft of anything worthwhile. So, he requires treasure, and to get that he requires a capable crew. That part at least will not be a problem, since Damian's sure that his name will be more than enough to draw in a sufficient number of sailors. He only needs to filter through them to find the ones he actually wants, and for that, he has an idea. Jason's presence should be more than enough to weed out those who aren't good enough, if he flashes his teeth once or twice.

However, that means bringing Jason onto land, away from the water that's his best defense if anything goes wrong. It means asking Jason to forgo access to his best defense, at the same time as he's revealing himself to other humans. Damian knows that's a combination of circumstances that Jason won't really want to do, and it's one he finds he doesn't want to ask. But it's still his best choice, as far as he can tell.

When he brings it up, two days out from the next port and lying in bed with his suitor, Jason pauses. Damian watches, waiting the couple of moments it takes for Jason to shift, for his eyes to narrow slightly.

"Up on land, you mean?"

"I do," Damian confirms, and then adds on a quiet, "This is a request, not a demand. It would make things easier for me, and I would promise to keep you safe, but if you are not comfortable you may refuse. I know that it will be farther from the water than you prefer to be."

Jason's gaze dips to the blanket between them, fingers stroking along Damian's spine at the end of where one heavy arm is thrown over his waist. Damian can see the torn indecision in his suitor's eyes, but decides to hold his tongue rather than repeat what he's already said. After these weeks at his side, at port and on sea, Jason knows to take him at his word. What option to take is Jason's choice, and Damian has no intention of taking that choice from him, nor pushing for a 'correct' answer.

"If I said 'no,' " Jason starts, slowly, "what would you do? Not about me — I trust you — but about gathering a crew. What's your other option?"

Damian lets his head rest a little more firmly against the pillow, letting his gaze trace the lines of Jason's jaw and throat as he considers. "I would bring those interested in joining me back to the ship," he answers after a few moments. "Perhaps have you… leap out of the water, or simply show your true teeth. Anything to scare them. It is more convenient to do it at the tavern, but it would not be too much trouble. The worst that could happen would be if I then lost too many and needed to go back to the tavern to retrieve more. I would… probably choose to simply sail to another port instead, and fill the rest there. A hassle, but nothing I could not overcome."

"I doubt there's much of anything you can't overcome," Jason responds, with the flash of a grin that's followed by a low laugh after the last word. Fingertips slide down his back, to where the hem of his pants hangs low across his hips. It feels idly possessive more than it actually feels like an intimation of what Jason wants though, which is almost surprising. "What if I say yes?"

Damian lifts his head at that, shifting to prop it up on one hand so he can look down at his mer. “Well, then I suppose I would have to reward you,” he offers, keeping his voice low, fully enjoying the flare of heat that it inspires in Jason’s eyes. “What is your decision, suitor?”

Jason leans in just enough that he can press a light kiss across Damian’s forehead, lingering there for a moment as he takes a steadying breath. “I trust you,” Jason repeats, softly. “I’ll go, Damian. As you wish.”

Damian can’t help the light flush that overtakes his cheeks, or the way his gaze dips, still shaken and somehow amazed at the easy acceptance. Even over these weeks, it hasn’t gotten any less incredible to him that Jason is so willing to bend all that strength and deadliness for him, because of nothing more than the touch of his hand or a few words. It hasn’t become any less of a thrill to be reminded how thoroughly Jason is _his_.

“I will protect you,” Damian promises, reaching forward to press his hand to Jason’s bare chest. “If things go badly, I will keep you safe.”

Jason gives a soft huff of laughter, and relaxes down against the bed once again. “I’m sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [You can find my Tumblr here!](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)


End file.
